


Universal Constant

by bumblebeesknees, partnerincrime



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Missing Scene, Prompt Fic, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-11 09:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11711556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeesknees/pseuds/bumblebeesknees, https://archiveofourown.org/users/partnerincrime/pseuds/partnerincrime
Summary: A series of stories about Magnus and Alec across different timelines and universes. Each chapter will have two standalone stories with diverging interpretations of a single prompt.Prompt #9 (46) - Warm (Writer's Choice)"Alec is sitting at the harbor in South Carolina. He has a boat, it’s a small boat with a motor. He’s wearing linen, the sun is setting. He’s happy and you can tell he’s happy because he’s working. He’s setting the boat up and everything like that and he’s going out. You can tell he’s going out to go get some fish. Magnus, Jace and all his friends are there. They’re all alongside the beach and they’re all doing different things. Some of them are getting food ready but it’s clear from what we’re seeing that all the concerns of the Clave and all these things, they’re all gone. Now they can all pursue a human life, not a life devoted to some kind of service that they don’t really believe in or a purpose that’s just there because it’s serving somebody else’s purpose. So, a life that they choose. A life that Alec chooses. It’s warm."-- Matt Daddario, when asked what his perfect ending scene in the show would be for Alec.





	1. Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun little idea for us – challenging ourselves to writing 500-1000 words for a total of 50 prompts [(Table 50-C if you're interested in seeing all of them!)](http://100-prompts.livejournal.com/692.html).
> 
> We each will be writing one variation (variation 1: [ bumblebeesknees ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeesknees), variation 2: [ partnerincrime](http://archiveofourown.org/users/partnerincrime)), and we generally want to show a contrast of happy/sad (think the rollercoaster ride that is 2x18). :D
> 
> We hope the format works for you – enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #1 - Mistakes**  
>  **Variation one** : Mistaken Identity - obviously, strippers in the downworld would dress up as law enforcement aka shadowhunters  
>  **Variation two** : Missed Chances - the darkest timeline; if 1x12 never happened, and the unhappiness that ensues

**Prompt #1- Mistakes**

 

**Variation One: Mistaken Identity** – obviously, strippers in the downworld would dress up as law enforcement aka shadowhunters (also available in [Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6070735))

 

There’s a loud rapping on the door to Magnus’ loft. Loud enough that it cuts through the sound of music and laughter and general carousing that can only be associated with Magnus Bane’s birthday party.

“Hello?” calls out a serious and seriously sexy sounding voice from the other side. “I’m here on shadowhunter business with the Clave – I’m looking for the High Warlock Magnus Bane.”

“Oh my God,” says Magnus, eyes widening in realization. He turns around to look at the crowd at large and whispers in scandalous glee, “Did you guys get me a _stripper?_ ”

Not waiting to hear an answer, Magnus walks over to his foyer. With a flick of his wrist, he unlocks the door and throws it open and – oh, _yes_. Standing there with his arm braced for another knock is possibly the finest specimen Magnus has ever laid eyes on – tall, dark, and delicious, dressed impeccably in shadowhunter black and with a severe expression on his face. 

Magnus isn’t surprised when he spots the deflection rune tattoo marking the side of his neck. It’s clearly and quite cleverly placed there for maximum enticement – it’s certainly tempting Magnus because if this man wasn’t a hired professional, Magnus would already be running his tongue along those stark black lines. 

Magnus also spots a seraph blade strapped to his thigh. How precious.

“Well, hello,” purrs Magnus. “What a delightful surprise. Come on in, _shadowhunter_.”

“Magnus Bane?” says the stripper, following Magnus into the loft. “I’m Alec Lightwood, acting Head of–”

“ _Lightwood_ ,” says Magnus. “Well, if anyone can make me have pleasant associations with that name, I’m betting it’ll be you. Though for now maybe I can call you – Alexander, was it?”

“It’s Alec,” he says shortly, looking around at the guests warily. “Are you having a party? This is somewhat of an emergency and I’d like to speak with you privately–”

A _private showing_. Magnus has never felt so blessed. Is this Raphael’s doing? He's always been Magnus’ favourite. Who else could maneuver a situation like this so that Magnus can get maximum enjoyment, while shielding their own eyes from the decadence of the human body? 

Frowning, Alec says, “Mr. Bane?”

_Mr. Bane._

Magnus’ mouth goes dry. 

Well. That settles it. 

“Of course, my dear,” he says smoothly. “Just this way to one of my guest rooms.”

Alec follows him with brisk efficiency. Is this part of his character? Will this play into whatever routine he’s going to put on for Magnus? Who did Magnus need to send a 'thank you' note and a gratuitous fruit basket to tomorrow morning?

All very important questions.

Once the door shuts behind them, Magnus conjures up a wine glass and settles down into a plush settee. He wants to be comfortable for this. 

Raising an eyebrow in a manner that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, Alec says, “I’d prefer to stand.”

“Of course you would,” says Magnus, delighted. “The floor’s all yours, darling. Did you bring your own music? It’s all right if you didn’t – I’ve quite literally got everything at the tip of my fingers.”

He snap said fingers to demonstrate. When the low, sultry beats start to reverberate through the room, Alec’s eyes widen. His face starts to bloom a charming shade of pink.

“Mr. Bane, there’s – there’s been a misunderstanding,” he says, and suddenly he’s not looking at Magnus anymore. Well, that won’t do, thinks Magnus. Not when he’s got such wonderful eyes. “I came here to hire you – the details are classified until you accept, but there’s a werewolf trafficking–”

“I admire your commitment to the character,” says Magnus. “But maybe you can just get started and ‘arrest’ me for something? What’s the last thing I did to break that may have broken the Accords? Ah, that’s right, I–”

“Stop!” bursts out Alec, and Magnus reels back, startled. “Don’t say anything that can _incriminate you_ , by the angel – you’re supposed to be the High Warlock! I’m a _shadowhunter_ , not some – some incubi stripper–”

“Okay... that’s racial prejudice because strippers definitely come from all walks of life,” says Magnus out of instinct, a slow and horrible realization dawning on him. Without Magnus’ conscious direction, the music changes into the _Jaws_ soundtrack. “Are you telling me you’re actually a Lightwood? And you’re here on Clave’s business?”

“Yes!” says Alec, looking relieved. Then– “Wait a minute, all those people outside–”

“They think you’re currently giving me a lapdance, yes.”

Alec looks like he’s going to pass out, his lovely eyes opened wide. “I need to get out of here – no,” he corrects himself, looking agonized. “I need _you_ to come with me.”

“Slow down there, shadowhunter,” says Magnus, gathering his wits. This is _not_ how he wanted things to go when he opened the door to find the most gorgeous man of this century standing there. “What exactly are you trying to hire me for? I demand payment upfront.” 

“I don’t have any gold on me,” says Alec, frowning. 

Magnus rolls his eyes. _Gold_. Typical shadowhunter. 

“But I need you to help me track down the man who we think is the lynchpin behind this werewolf tracking operation,” continues Alec, and Magnus finds himself standing straighter, becoming more alert. “So you can – take my blade as collateral or something. I can fight with something else if it comes down to it. And–” Alec pulls out a truly atrocious looking wallet. “I have some mundane money in here, you can have whatever that is.”

Magnus peers inside. “This is three thousand dollars,” he says flatly. “Are you kidding me?”

“No,” says Alec impatiently. “Every second we wait is another second a werewolf is getting kidnapped. Are you in?”

Something strange and disbelieving starts to take form in Magnus’ chest. “You’re really going to give me this to coerce me into rescuing werewolves?”

“Yes?”

Magnus shakes his head.

“Keep your blade, Alexander,” he says. “And yes, I’m in. Let’s go take down some bad guys.” He adds, “I’ll keep the cash though.”

Back at the party, something fragile and priceless falls to the ground and shatters. Magnus hears Dorothea’s tipsy voice say, “Fuck, someone find a warlock to magic that back together before the stripper’s done with Magnus.”

That fierceness in Alec just a moment ago squashes down again to something flustered. 

“Maybe we can just leave through the window,” he mutters, back to looking anywhere but at Magnus.

“Yes, good idea,” agrees Magnus hastily. He takes a moment though to lock the door and set the sexy music back on. This way, no one will look for him until the morning.

 

* * *

 

**Variation Two: Missed Chances** – the darkest timeline; if 1x12 never happened, and the unhappiness that ensues

 

Alec sits at the hard chair in his office at the Institute, staring blankly at the documents in front of him. There are words there, a lot of important words, but Alec can’t bring himself to concentrate on what they are. 

It’s been one of those days. 

Out of all days, how could there be a shax demon raid, the emergence of a werewolf serial killer, and a surprise Clave inspection all on a Monday? 

Was this the universe telling him that he had fucked up really bad somewhere along the way? 

It’s been six months since Alec had been promoted to the Head of the New York Institute after the wedding to Lydia, and it took only the six months after that for Alec to finally admit to himself that he was unhappy. There’s a big gaping hole in his life that he just can’t fix, a dull ache under his ribs that feels like an acid eating away at his soul. 

He tells himself he has to quell these feelings, that he has no right to be unhappy – he's fulfilling his duty and he has his dream job, the job that he’s wanted ever since he was a child and he could barely reach his father’s desk, scribbling pretend decrees in crayon. 

Now, it’s his own desk, his own office – this is what he was born to do, what he’s always _wanted_ to do. 

But its days like these, when the office feels imposing and barren, when Alec questions everything he’s ever done and whether it was all worth it. 

Lydia definitely can sense it – sometimes when she thinks Alec is asleep, all she does is run a soothing hand in continuous circles over his back and whispers, “I’m sorry, Alec. I’m so, so, sorry,” and he can’t bear to face her. 

Izzy and Jace look at him with different eyes now, with an expression that Alec can’t really place – pity, worry? Alec doesn’t know. 

And Magnus. 

Something painful clenches in Alec’s chest. 

Alec has tried in every which way to move on, but he can’t. The sensations haunt him – his rapidly beating heart, his quickened breath – Magnus’ laugh when they had stayed up all night talking – memories turned dreams. He clutches onto the fragments tightly, reliving them every night so he can never forget. 

There are nights where he curls into bed, screams silently into his pillow, even with Lydia lying only a few feet away. 

There are days where he rubs at his skin painfully hard when he washes his hands, as if trying to erase the marriage rune tattooed under his knuckles.

It’s the gnawing loneliness that brings him to think about the what ifs, the should’ve, the could’ve. 

What if he said ‘yes’ to Magnus that one time before the wedding? What if he had called the wedding off? Gave up everything, to take a chance at love instead?

Would he be happier then? 

What if, what if, what if. 

\--

Magnus sits in his plush VIP booth at Pandemonium, surrounded by his posse of scantily clad admirers, an attractive crowd from which Magnus believes he’s slept with all of them at least once in the last six months (possibly, he really can’t tell them apart anymore). He stares blankly at the writhing mosh pit in front of him as they dance the night away without a care in the world. 

The blue strobe lights beat down brightly on the club, the bass booming, and the room hot – so many sensations to bring him to the present, but Magnus is the furthest that he can be from there, trapped in the recesses of his mind. 

It’s a dangerous place that makes him do stupid things. Magnus doesn’t like to venture here often, but he finds himself here more likely than he would like to admit. 

Like the night before Alec’s wedding. He had indulged a little too much, finally cracked open that 100 year-old whiskey, and downed the whole bottle in one sitting. 

Only to wake up the next day, three hours after the ceremony.  


He had felt like a fool, a traitor to Ragnor’s memory. Worst of all, he had felt like in the ten hours he laid passed out on his couch in a drunken stupor, he had missed what could have possibly been one of the biggest turning points of his life.

Catarina tells him to move on. Stop helping those silly little shadowhunters who don’t give a shit as they ruin downworlder lives, who stomp on our dignity and hearts, and treat us as if we aren’t human. 

But Magnus can’t. 

When Magnus first saw Alec, alarm bells went off so loudly in his head it echoed through his ears – _fate_. It’s as if a fishing line was cast and hooked right into his centre, reeling him towards this shadowhunter named Alexander Lightwood, like a moth to a flame. 

And like a moth, he's flown too close and he's gotten burned – the painful sting of a missed opportunity that rings of loneliness and loss. 

He can't help it though. Even now, Alexander burns so bright that Magnus is always aware of where he is. Even if Alexander makes every attempt to postpone meetings with him (often sending Izzy in his place), makes detours in the halls, and overtly avoids his gaze. 

The forbidden fruit – Magnus knows he’s playing a dangerous game every time he lingers too long and stares a little too deep. He can feel Maryse smirking behind his back every time he’s at the Institute (in fact, he feels the increased business with the Institute is Maryse subtly trying to rub something in his face).  


He feels so tired nowadays – there are nights where he can’t fall asleep and he just lies there alone in his gigantic bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it went all wrong.

What if he fought harder? What if he showed up at the wedding? 

Would he be happier then? 

What if, what if, what if.


	2. Heartfelt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #2. Heartfelt;**  
>  **Variation one:** Magnus and Alec have an important conversation with teenage Madzie, who is feeling self-conscious about her warlock mark  
>  **Variation two:** Jace feels something strange at the end of 2x07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **bumblebeesknees** needed a break from the sadness of canon and **partnerincrime** wanted some hilarity involving Jace and a shout out to his weirdness with Magnus in 2x08. :D

**Prompt #2 – Heartfelt**

**Variation One** – Magnus and Alec have an important conversation with teenage Madzie, who is feeling self-conscious about her warlock mark

 

While Catarina is in Fiji providing medical assistance for victims of an earthquake crisis, Madzie’s been staying in their guest room. Overall, Alec thinks that the incremental difference in their day to day life in having a full-time teenager around the house is minimal – breakfast is always cereal on weekdays, Madzie takes the N-train to Brooklyn Tech by herself, and the Lightwood-Bane household has been Madzie’s go-to after school and for dinner for years whenever Catarina has an awkwardly scheduled shift. 

She’s also great with Max and Raf, which lead to her being the best compensated babysitter in all of New York City.

Madzie’s clever, responsible, and hilarious in an unintentional way that just makes Alec even fonder of her. They’ve always had a special understanding of one another in the way that it happens when a five year-old decides that Alec isn’t competent enough to look after himself and assigns herself the job as his saviour. He’s very glad that she did, because Alec would definitely be dead at least seven times over by now without her. Thankfully, the incidents are growing further and further apart, although their tradition of getting ice cream afterward has remained the same. 

When Alec comes home from the Institute on Wednesday – running late, as always, but still just in time to get dinner started – it’s to find Max and Raf sitting on the rug in the living room. Max is holding up flashcards to help Raf memorize his runes. 

“Fortitude,” says Raf confidently when Max holds up a card. 

“Nope,” says Max. 

“What? Yes it is! Give me that.” Raf takes the card from Max’s hand and flips it over. “See, I was right!” 

“I don’t know,” says Max, shrugging. “I can’t read big words.”

Raf lets out a frustrated, “Argh!” and Alec intervenes before Max riles his big brother up even more. 

“No hello for Dad?” he asks, hanging up his coat. 

“Dad!” says Max, and immediately launches into his daily campaign to eat chocolate cake for dinner.

“What’s wrong with having it _after_ dinner?” asks Alec.

“Because then we’ll be full and can’t eat as much,” explains Raf and Max nods vigorously.

“Yeah, listen to Raf, Dad,” he says. “He’s smart.” Raf looks shocked and immensely touched. Alec has to resist the urge to draw them both into his arms and never, ever let them go.

“Are you two ganging up on me?” he asks, putting on a severe tone. “That’s not fair. Where’s your Papa when I need some back up?”

“He’s with Madzie!” says Max brightly. “They’ve been talking about important stuff since five-thirty-o-clock.”

Alec frowns at his watch. It’s past six now. “Maybe I’ll go make sure they haven’t been eating chocolate cake without us,” he says. “Raf, can you help me with dinner? There’s a big bowl with vegetables on the bottom shelf that needs washing.”

Rafael nods and immediately gets to it. Max abandons the cards in the living room and trails curiously after Raf. “The mushrooms have a lot of dirt on them,” Alec reminds them. “You gotta get them really clean.”

Satisfied that Raf has that under control, Alec heads over to Madzie’s room and knocks. 

“Madzie? Magnus?” he calls out. There’s no sound from inside, which worries Alec. Usually Madzie has upbeat music playing which filters into the hallway. He’s pretty sure one of the two warlocks in there soundproofed the room with magic. “I just got home – is everything okay?” 

The lock clicks open in response. 

Alec walks in to find Madzie sitting on her bed with her entire body – except her face – wrapped in a blanket. Even her hair is covered, as though she’s wearing a hood of a cloak. If Madzie didn’t look like the very picture of misery, with red eyes and a runny nose, Alec would’ve smiled at the sight. As it is, the only reaction he has is heart ache. Magnus has an arm around her, softly saying something Alec can’t hear.

“Hey,” he says quietly, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it. The two of them look like they’re in the middle of a delicate, tentative moment and Alec doesn’t want to break that. Directing his words to Madzie, Alec says, “I can step back out. I just wanted to check in, let you know I’m home.”

“No, it’s okay,” says Madzie, and her voice is rough, cracked. With a wave of his hand, Magnus summons a glass of water and holds it out. Madzie pops out an arm and gratefully chugs it down. “Magnus and I reached a stalemate.”

“...Okay,” says Alec, raising his eyebrows. “Stalemate on what?” 

Madzie looks at Magnus, an unspoken conversation taking place between them. Magnus sighs and says, “Our dear Madzie is having some concerns about love, her future, and her warlock mark. I’m under strict orders not to bring any of this up with Catarina.”

“Mama’s got real problems to worry about,” says Madzie glumly. 

“Well, I don’t know if this is a problem or not,” says Alec slowly. “But if it’s stressing you out, it seems like a pretty real thing to me.”

Madzie just pulls the blanket over her head. 

Walking over to the bed, Alec takes a seat on Madzie’s other side. Magnus gently asks her, “Do you want to talk to Alec about what happened?”

“It’s okay if you don’t,” says Alec. 

“I was kissing Emma,” comes out Madzie’s muffled voice. “And then she kissed my neck. And then I freaked out, ran away, and portaled here from a gas station bathroom.”

“That’s rough,” says Alec. “Gas station bathrooms make me cry too.”

“ _Alexander_ ,” says Magnus, but it’s mostly out of rote. The expression on his face is deeply resigned. Madzie chokes out what sounds like shocked, horrified laughter though so Alec counts that as a win. 

She comes out of her blanket to glare at him. 

“I’m sorry,” says Alec, and he sincerely means it. Being able to look at her beautiful face, blotchy and annoyed as it is, makes everything seem a lot more hopefule though. “Okay, so you ran away from Emma and came here?”

With Madzie – and also Jace and Max, though the kid’s only six, so who knows where he’ll end up – Alec’s learned that the best way to get them to open up is to say a useless sentence, phrase it as a question, and wait for them to run with it.

She doesn’t let him down.

“Not everyone looks at these and thinks, _cool gills_ , Alec,” says Madzie, rolling her eyes. Exasperation at his complete lack of understanding seems to distract her from her dejection, if only temporarily. “I mean, they were glamoured, but that’s not the point.” 

“What _is_ the point, my dear?” asks Magnus.

“I’m in love with her, Magnus! And she doesn’t know that I’m a warlock and have this – this deformation.” Alec frowns, his hackles rising in the way it always does when he hears one of the people he loves being – diminished. Even if it’s by themselves. 

Before he can say anything though, Madzie continues, “What if we end up getting married and then we’re forty and I’m drinking in front of the fireplace and wondering how I’m keeping such a huge secret from my wife of seventeen years and the guilt drives me into becoming an alcoholic?”

She sounds so forlorn that it’s all Alec can do not to gape at her. He doesn’t even know how to start unpacking that sentence without setting off multiple landmines.

 _You’re fifteen,_ he wants to say. _You have time to figure this out._

Instead he asks, “Why seventeen years?”

“Because we’re going to finish college before getting married.”

“Smart girl,” says Magnus, smiling. “But to your point, Madzie... you have time to figure out how you want to tell Emma, and when the right time is.”

“Well, if she’s gonna break up with me, then the right time is literally now or never.”

“Why would she break up with you?” asks Alec. He’s never met Emma, but Magnus has, and he seems to think she’s a decent person who wouldn’t crush Madzie’s heart. “Because she’s a mundane and would freak out that you have magic?”

“No, she doesn’t – I mean, she _won’t_ care about that,” says Madzie, and she suddenly looks guilty, eyes riveting back and forth from Alec to Magnus. Good grief, thinks Alec. 

Magnus rubs his temples and says, “Madzie, my love... I’m the High Warlock and Alexander’s the most important shadowhunter in the state. You know we can’t have mundanes knowing about us.”

“Nooo, Magnus,” says Madzie, divesting of her blanket to grab imploringly at Magnus’ hands. “Emma’s really cool, she totally won’t spill the beans! She wants to go into academia eventually and knows that her career would be canned before it starts if she starts telling people about magic being real!"

“Let’s... deal with one thing at a time,” says Alec. “You said you’re worried about your warlock mark? You think she’s... not gonna want to be with you because of that?”

Madzie nods miserably.

“Okay,” says Alec. “Well, if she leaves you over something like that then you can do better anyway.”

“Oh, Alexander, _no_ ,” murmurs Magnus as Madzie’s eyes well up with tears. 

“No I can’t!” sobs Madzie. “I love her! I can’t lose her!” 

“You don’t have to lose anyone, Madzie,” says Magnus, pressing a kiss to her temple and glaring at Alec in one go. 

Alec can already see that he’s one hundred percent going to pay for this later. But it’s the truth and what he believes. Too late to take it back, he says, “Madzie, if she knows you’re a warlock – and don’t confirm or deny anything – and _that_ hasn’t scared her when she grew up as a mundane, I don’t think she’ll be scared of your mark.”

“I don’t think she’ll be scared Alec. I think she’ll be disgusted.”

“Why? They’re awesome.” Madzie just cries harder, and in a softer tone Alec says, “She won’t care about you being different if she loves you.”

“ _If?_ ” cries out Madzie. “I don’t want to find out that she doesn’t love me!” 

That... is not what Alec was going for. 

Thankfully, Magnus takes over and says, “Madzie, I know we talked about this before and you didn’t believe me, but Alexander is living proof that among all the hatred and ignorance in this world, there _are_ people who will see you as you are and love you in everything that you are.” 

He pauses, and Alec instinctively lays a comforting hand on his shoulder to ground him. Above Madzie’s head, Magnus meets his gaze. Perhaps it’s for strength, or perhaps he’s trying to tell something to Alec without using the exact words, but Magnus doesn’t look away from Alec as he says, “My, my eyes are–”

“That’s not the same thing at all, Magnus,” interrupts Madzie tearfully. “Of course Alec likes your mark, _your_ mark is pretty! Supermodels literally wear contact lenses to try and get that look!”

Magnus, who thinks his unglamoured eyes are demonic and terrifying, is clearly taken aback. He silently, foolishly looks to Alec for support. Alec shrugs and says, “She’s right. They’re really pretty.” 

Magnus looks immensely betrayed, like he can’t believe Alec’s complete lack of tact and sensibility. Madzie, however, actually seems to calm down a bit at the acknowledgment. 

Magnus says, “Thank you for saying what you did about my eyes, Madzie. But you know I – I don’t like them. The first time I showed them to Alec, I thought he was going to go running for the hills.”

“You thought Alec would go running?” boggles Madzie, distracted from her own drama with this new piece of information. “ _This_ Alec?”

“Before him, I didn’t have too many good experiences with shadowhunters,” admits Magnus. “But he – he was really nice about it.” 

The apples of Magnus’ cheeks start to bloom red under his soft brown skin. Alec smiles, both at the flush and the sweetness of the memory. 

“Yeah,” says Alec, and Madzie turns to look at him. “And I know you’re feeling self-conscious about your gills, but _we_ definitely think they’re cool. And – the truth is, some people will react badly about you and Magnus being different but. I think you know Emma. And I think you know that she cares about you.”

For a while, Madzie doesn’t say anything. And then very, very quietly she goes, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

She wipes the back of her hand across her eyes and takes a deep, settling breath. “I need to think about this some more.”

It’s honestly the best outcome Alec could’ve hoped for when he’d walked into this room a few minutes earlier.

“Okay,” says Magnus agreeably, giving Madzie another hug. “It’s a lot to think about.”

“You want to take a break for dinner though, before you start thinking with that big brain of yours?” asks Alec. “Or do you want to get started right away?”

“No, dinner sounds good,” says Madzie. The smile she gives Alec is a little brittle, but he's confident she's going to be back to her usual upbeat self soon. Madzie's resilient like that. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 **Variation Two:** Jace feels something strange at the end of 2x07. 

 

Jace is at the Hunter's Moon on a Tuesday afternoon, the perfect distraction to take off his mind from the mess of his life right now. He doesn't think he's ever reached a lower point than this – from him being kicked out of the Institute, from Valentine possessing the soul sword, and Clary being his _sister_ , he needs some small wins in his life to recover. He's currently been hitting on a pair of Seelie sisters (Layla? Leela?) for the past hour, and he knows at least one of them is interested. 

And if this doesn't end up go well? There's always alcohol to resort to.

Jace is finally in the midst of getting one of their phone numbers when he feels something pulse heavy in his chest. 

_Badump_. 

Everything in the Hunter's Moon – the buzz of the neon, the clink of the glasses, and raunchy laughter at the bar – fades to a blurry static in the back of his mind, while the sound of his heart rings loudly in his head.

 _Badump_. 

It's the loudest he's ever heard his heart beat, to the point that it's really kind of concerning. He sees Leela's eyes grow wide, as he visibly grabs at the bar stool to support himself, to keep himself standing. 

Jace's first reaction is panic – is this a medical condition? Is he having a stroke? He can't die now, not when he's five seconds away from landing a wood nymph with the hottest set of markings he's ever seen. 

He just needs to get away for a bit, he thinks, a couple of minutes to get himself sorted out and figure out what exactly is going on.

"Don't worry about me, babe,” he assures her, pulling on his most charming smile. “I'm just going to grab a couple more drinks for us at the bar, I'll be right back."

And he rushes over to the bar, clenching at his shirt. 

As he waits for Maia to pour him some more shots (he gives her a stink-eye when he catches her rolling her eyes in silent judgment), he concentrates on diagnosing the feeling, and whether or not he should actually head over to the Institute to seek medical attention. 

After a couple of minutes, the sensation in his chest settles down into a low burn, but the intensity is still there, a pressure which feels like someone has taken his heart in their hands and is clenching tightly. It's not painful – in fact, it feels quite nice – it’s this happy, liquid warmth that Jace recalls feeling only a handful of times, with the people that he loves. It's like the time when he and Alec successfully defeated a particularly challenging pack of raum demons, returning satisfied, covered in sweat and ichor. Or the time when he, Alec, and Izzy stayed up until four in the morning, eating pizza and gossiping about how Mark Winterborn, the Institute's notorious playboy, totally has the hots for Jacqueline Stormlight, the bookish shadowhunter who spends all her time in the archives. Or when he and Clary – 

He stops himself. 

He feels his eyebrows shoot up as he whips his head towards Leela, who sits several feet away from across the bar. 

He's pretty sure he's not in love with _Leela_. He nearly laughs at the thought. 

But he's stopped mid-chuckle when the pulsing starts radiating through his parabatai rune. 

And this time, the feeling is so overwhelming – it hurts. He clutches at his side, filled with this indescribable mix of longing, adoration, and a selfless desire to protect, overall rooted in this flustered happiness that is exploding painfully in his chest. 

Absurdly, Jace thinks, _These aren't my feelings_. Maia is giving him a strange look, as he gasps for breath. 

The feeling in his rune starts to get unbearable, as if this heavy ache is bleeding into his body, overpowering every thought in his mind. His first instinct is to go and find Alec, to make sure that he's okay, as this is something that's never happened before in all the six years they have been parabatai.

He slaps some money on the table, yells out "call me!" to Leela (or Layla), and is running out the door. 

\--

"Hey Alec, you home?"

He peeks his head through the door when he doesn't get a reply. Magnus' apartment is silent, but he sees Alec jacket lying crumpled on the floor, so Jace knows that at least someone is here. 

_The floor._ That's unusual he thinks, as Alec was meticulous about all his things, even this ratty old jacket that he and Izzy bought for him five years ago. He wasn't the type to leave his things out carelessly, and strewn about. 

Then he hears a moan from Magnus' bedroom.

Jace freezes in his tracks. He couldn't have possibly heard what he just thought he heard. 

"Alexander, _yes_ , just like that –"

Jace's eyes fly open, comically wide. 

FUCK. Fuck. 

Jace's mind immediately connects all the dots as to what the source of these emotions are, and who these feelings are for. Well, clearly Alec is okay, he thinks, _Better than okay_ , from the sounds of it. 

But Alec, having _sex_?

It's shocking, a little confusing. Really weird. All he can think is that he needs to escape, as he slowly backs out of Magnus foyer and through the front door. 

As soon as he shuts the door with a soft click, he dramatically sinks to the floor, clutching his knees so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

He needs to talk to someone about this. He whips out his phone to text Izzy.

_Izzy._

_Izzy._

He's frantically texting in short bursts that he knows Izzy hates, but he can't help it. 

_I know you're not going to believe this_

_but I think_

_Alec_

_is having_

_sex_

_with Magnus???_

_I know I pull your leg a lot (sorry about when I lied about not having money last time we went to lunch btw) but, I'm not kidding this time, I SWEAR._

_I think I'm mentally scarred and in desperate need of therapy, do you think your Institute medical benefits can cover dependents like me???_

This is a real issue to Jace, being unemployed and all. Maybe Alec will lend him some money, since he's the real cause of this. 

It's about a minute after his onslaught of text messages to Izzy does his phone start to buzz loudly, indicating an incoming call. 

As soon as he picks up, his eardrum is blasted by Izzy's high-pitch squeal, "By the angel, _Alec is having sex_?!"

"Iz, I need you to help me. I'm sitting outside of Magnus' apartment in the hall – what's the protocol here? Should I wait thirty minutes before entering?"

He can only hear Izzy laughing on the other end, as he continues, " This is traumatic – _not funny_. I can't go back in there and tell Alec I can feel everything he's feeling towards Magnus through our parabatai rune – I just can't." 

Izzy goes quiet for a moment. "What exactly do you feel through your bond, Jace?" she asks curiously.

Jace pauses. "Well, it's hard to put it in words. It's like… something heavy is sitting on my chest, but in a good way? Like someone is squeezing your chest too tight? It's not painful but its…uncomfortable – too intimate you know?"

Jace hears some shuffling on the other end, before Izzy starts to speak. "Jace, we need to let Alec have this. Everything our big bro has done for us, his forgiveness, his kindness – he deserves to be happy. He deserves to feel this kind of love. You know he'd do anything for us – put us first before him – and if we even breathe one speck of doubt over his relationship with Magnus, you know he'd second guess himself."

"I know that, Iz. I know." And Jace does know. If there's anyone who would overthink his own happiness, it would be Alec. 

They sit silently for a moment, the line quiet. "He loves him, Izzy. I can feel it." 

"Yeah, I think so too."

“Yeah,” says Jace, feeling oddly sombre. “Yeah, no, I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with this right now. I’m gonna go back to the bar and find someone to help me block this shit out.”

“You just said he was in love!” accuses Izzy. “How’s that ‘shit’?” 

“I can tell you right now that the lovey-dovey part isn’t gonna last for the whole night, Iz. And I don’t wanna know what Alec feels when he’s thinking about Magnus’ di–”

And then it’s too late because all at once, Jace knows. He doesn’t know how he knows exactly, why Alec’s suddenly feeling what he is but – Jace knows.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks. He really is going to need therapy now.


	3. Fading away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #3. Fading away;**  
>  **Variation one:** Baby Max, the sole witness to Alec’s general failure as a human, keeps a secret for his Dad.  
>  **Variation two:** “Many runes are temporary and fade with time. These runes will almost always leave behind a faint white or silver scar as if as a reminder of the rune that was once placed there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **bumblebeesknees** becomes a repeat victim to kidfic. **partnerincrime** continues to misuse the shadowhunters wiki.

**Variation one:** Baby Max, the sole witness to Alec’s general failure as a human, keeps a secret for his Dad.

 

“Okay, Max,” starts Alec, maintaining steady eye-contact with his son to emphasize the seriousness of the matter. “If you want to keep your status as my most favourite person on this planet, this has to stay a secret between the two of us, d'you understand?”

Max, who is sitting in the shallow valley of cushions at the corner of the sofa, gurgles happily. 

“What was that?” asks Alec, unable to resist gently bopping Max on the nose with the tip of his index finger. “You're never going to breathe a word to Papa that Daddy is a sorry excuse of a shadowhunter who got freaked out by a spider and knocked over an open bottle of wine all over Papa's ten thousand dollar white leather jacket?”

There's no real reaction from Max, who keeps waving his arms around. Alec takes that implicit agreement.

“And you're never going to tell him that in the progress of fixing it, your Dad had a moment of insanity and listened to Uncle Jace’s advice of throwing it in for a run in the washer and dryer?”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaa,” says Max. 

“Thanks, buddy, you’re the best,” says Alec, dropping a kiss on Max’s soft hair. What did Alec ever do to deserve the best baby in the universe? “Hopefully this is all just a non-issue. The second Papa sees how adorable you look in his infant size jacket, I’m pretty sure he won’t even care.”

Alec, who knows Magnus even better than he knows himself, turns out to be right. Magnus sees Max in the onesie and leather jacket combo Alec has him decked out in and immediately goes into proud-Papa mode. 

“Blueberry!! Did your magic shrink Papa’s favourite jacket because you knew how much more handsome you’d look in it?” He swoops in and steals Max from Alec’s arms, looking like he’s about to burst with joy. There’s a thousand-watt smile on his face. “Alec! Take a picture of me and our fashionable, talented son.” 

Alec silently complies and feels horribly guilty about the whole thing, as he knew he would. What kind of a man is he, letting his seven month old child take the blame for his crimes? 

He meets Max’s sweet, guileless gaze above Magnus’ shoulder and feeling oddly resolute, thinks, _I’ll never forget this, Max. I promise I’ll make it up to you._

-

**TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER**

It’s not every day that Alec receives a collect-call from Max at three in the morning. 

“Listen,” starts Max before Alec can even get in a confused hello. “I know you said the next time I get arrested I’m on my own–” Alec groans. For fuck’s sake. “But I was totally set up!”

“ _Max_.” Magnus stirs beside him, and Alec runs a hand along Magnus’ arm, soothing him back to sleep.

“I mean it!” insists Max. “Loran’s a total douchebag and he’s apparently the Queen’s great-great-grandson’s brother-in-law so obviously everyone in the Seelie Court takes his side when he says I set their sacred weed garden on fire but Dad, I mean it. It wasn’t me, I swear.”

Alec grows quiet. 

“Dad?”

“Okay,” says Alec, rubbing his temples. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. I’ll – head over to the court. Give me an hour.”

“Holy shit,” says Max, sounding shocked. “Really? I mean – I knew you would but I also really thought you’d give me a harder time about it–”

“This is a one-time, no-questions-asked pass, Max,” warns Alec. “After this, we’re square.”

“ _Square?_ ” repeats Max, sounding nervous. “What does that mean? What’re you talking about? Dad, are you oka–”

Alec sighs when the line cuts off, signalling that the obligatory two and a half minute phone calls granted by the Seelie Court to its detainees had run out. 

Going toe-to-toe with the Seelie Queen wasn’t exactly how Alec envisioned repaying his son for the favour he did for Alec when he was a baby, but at this point in his life – he’ll take it.

 

* * *

 

 **Variation Two:** “Many runes are temporary and fade with time. These runes will almost always leave behind a faint white or silver scar as if as a reminder of the rune that was once placed there.”

 

Alec is in his late forties when he stops retracing over his runes, letting them fade into quiet scars all over his body. 

The first rune to go is the one for ‘calm anger’. Alec doesn’t tell anyone explicitly, and no one seems to notice – he’s not usually one to let his temper get the better of him nowadays, years of experience dealing with demons popping in and out of other dimensions and a moody, teenage Max Lightwood-Bane refining his ability to keep a hold on his emotions to a near perfect skill. 

And the placement – _by the angel_ , why did he think that placing that rune square on his back (he usually has to activate his flexibility rune to reach it), was a good idea to begin with? 

Needless to say, his flexibility rune was the next to go. Magnus was in a sulk about it for a good week.

And when Alec realizes that he is no longer needed for active duty missions – he hadn’t been on a raid in _years_ – he decides to let his heightened speed, soundless, and accuracy runes fade into his skin, adding to the mosaic of other scars he’s collected from years of battle. 

It’s by then everyone in his family starts to notice. 

“Woah, Dad, did the Clave derune you for backing that bill on downworlder immigration in Idris?” Rafael lifts up Alec’s left arm and inspects where Alec’s heightened speed rune used to be. 

“Not yet,” replies Alec without missing a beat. “Although I’m pretty sure at this point they’re probably going to ‘arrange’ for my disappearance instead of going through the drama of deruning.”

“It seems like you missed a couple of spots. I can help you with those, you know, if you’re getting too old to reach.” His eyes twinkle with mirth. Rafael’s always been the one to fondly poke fun at Alec’s age ever since Alec had started to get more and more grey hairs. “Are you stopping with runes altogether then?” 

“No, I’m not letting _all_ of them fade – I mean my parabatai and enkeli runes are permanent – but there are some I just don’t use anymore.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you activate your ‘soundless’ rune in years. Not since we tried to throw Papa that surprise birthday party.” He gives Alec’s shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t let them all go too fast though, otherwise I’m not going to be able to tell you and a mundane apart in the next year or so.”

Unlike Rafael however, Jace is a little less chill about the whole thing. In fact, Jace seems to be collecting more and more runes as time passes. 

“Alec, Clary’s invented this great new rune called 'serene’. I don’t think it was intended to do this, but it’s honestly done wonders with my digestion.” Jace lifts up the hem of his shirt so that Alec can see a rune tattooed directly over Jace’s stomach, in what looks like a shape of an eggplant. 

“Jace, that’s a fucking eggplant,” says Alec flatly. “Why would you be stupid enough to do this?”

“Because it works,” replies Jace, completely zen. “See how serene I am right now?”

Alec rejects the offer to get one of his own with extreme prejudice, telling Jace that his digestive system works perfectly fine thank you, and lets his remaining runes run their course. 

It’s at the brink of Alec’s retirement when he stops tracing over his signature deflect rune on the side of his neck, a noticeable line of silver in place of the familiar inky black that’s been there for as long he can remember, when he gives his farewell speech to the Institute. 

As his deflect rune fades, Alec can tell Magnus is hit by a wave a nostalgia every time he looks at the side of Alec’ neck, tracing over the scar with a gentle, delicate touch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to trace over it one last time?” he asks. “We can pretend that you’re at the altar, and I can crash your wedding again.” Magnus’ voice is teasing, but Alec can sense some wistfulness there, like Magnus knows what the future holds and so very desperately wants to linger a few moments longer in the past. 

But the one marking that Alec knows he will never get rid of is his alliance rune – the one rune tattooed to the back of his hand, the same one tattooed over Magnus’ heart. It’s the one that he redraws every year on their wedding anniversary, a tradition that they have right after they portal back from their ‘annual honeymoon’, as Magnus puts it. 

While it gets a little bit more and more painful to rebrand his body with the rune with each passing year, the discomfort is worth it. Every time he looks at the dark lines that grace his skin, he's flooded with memories of a life fulfilled, and the satisfaction it brings is just that much more vibrant than a 'recall' rune could ever give. 

Years of Alec, taking painstaking care as he re-inks over the lines of Magnus' rune on his bare chest, whispering soft 'I love you's under the warm glow of the lamplight in their bedroom. 

Years of Magnus, his hand over Alec's own, tracing over Alec's alliance rune, sealing it with a kiss on the back of his hand. 

Years of standing side by side, fighting battles and winning wars. 

Years of early morning coffees on the balcony, sleepless nights taking care of the kids, crazy family vacations, cuddles on the couch, and slow dances under the night sky – always together. 

"Guess we can put the stele away until next time." Magnus sighs, a familiar look of melancholy gracing his features. "Another year down."

Deeply content and wanting Magnus to share in this serenity, Alec kisses Magnus' cheek as he replies, "And so many more left to go."


	4. Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #4. Spirit;**  
>  **Variation one:** When Magnus finally reaches the end of his long life, it's Alec who greets him to accompany his soul onto the next big adventure.  
>  **Variation two:** Jace, Izzy, Clary, and Simon visit Alec’s place in the morning, and meet Alec’s unexpected roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as the individual summaries indicate, there is death in these stories but we PROMISE it is not sad!

**Variation one:** When Magnus finally reaches the end of his long life, it's Alec who greets him to accompany his soul onto the next big adventure.

 

“Well,” says Magnus, staring down at his lifeless body amidst the rusty, desolate landscape of Edom where the fight between the demons and the nephilim army is still raging. “I guess that’s that.” 

After centuries of evading death through a combination of skill and sheer, inexplicable luck, Magnus runs out of time just after his six-hundredth year. It was always a toss-up between dying in battle or being murdered because he pissed off one too many people, and Magnus almost feels a relief that it’s in battle. There’s some honour to that, and he likes to think that Alec would be less irritated at this outcome than if Magnus met his end getting shanked in a back alley by a disgruntled customer. 

_If_ Alec’s still watching him. It’s been a hundred and fifty years, after all.

“Thanks,” Magnus can imagine Alec’s dry voice saying. He recalls it clearly, even now. “This is the kind of faith you have in me? You think I stuck by you my entire mortal life just to bail on you after?”

“You always did deserve better than me,” says Magnus, almost absently. It’s so strange staring at his own face, knowing that this is the end. That the end already occurred. If it wasn’t for the blood spilling out him, Magnus looks like he’s sleeping. “This would probably be easier to handle if I thought I’d be seeing you again as a result.”

“Magnus,” says Alec’s voice again, sounding exasperated. “What d’you think is going on, exactly?”

And it’s only then that Magnus realizes that he’s not hearing Alec in his head. 

Magnus is a corporeal spirit now, but it turns out he’s not beyond feeling cold shock, that disbelief, that staggering weight of love and loss and longing that always grips Magnus at the thought of his long dead husband. That tightness in his chest, the sudden burning in his lungs. And then, of course, there’s that hope – that against all odds, all common sense, that Alec is here.

“Alexander?” whispers Magnus, moving his gaze away from his body to slowly turn around. It’s not possible, there’s no way his Alexander, with his singularly good and beautiful and unyielding soul, could be in Edom. Magnus would rather go an eternity without glimpsing him again if it meant that–

But there Alec is. 

Magnus’ knees grow weak at the sight. It all rushes back to him with vivid clarity, an onslaught of memories that was their lives together. He actually has to sit down beside his forgotten physical body, gaze not wavering from Alec’s beloved face and all at once Magnus is hit with it, that unrelenting force of Alec’s love for him; a truth so strong Magnus has never been able to deny, shy away from it. It had been in the warmth of his bright hazel eyes whenever he looked at Magnus and the smile that always lingered at the corners of them. The tenderness in his touch, the way he’d slowly, carefully stitched together his life with Magnus’. 

It’s there right now as Alec looks back at Magnus, walks over to him with that brisk, efficient stride. He gets down on a knee, the form he always takes when he’s about to change Magnus’ entire life: when he embraced Magnus instead of pushing him away when he learnt about the darkness inside of him, when Alec took Magnus’ hand in his own and pulled out a black velvet box which held what would become Magnus’ most cherished ring. 

He looks the way he does in all of Magnus’ most frequented memories, in his black jacket and combat boots, his deflection rune stark on his pale neck. In Magnus’ eyes there has always been a glow to Alec, but right now Magnus would wager his soul that there’s bright, warm light emanating from him and curling around Magnus, welcoming him home.

“Magnus Lightwood-Bane,” he sighs, moving his hands to cradle Magnus’ face. Magnus is still in shock, even as he feels the familiar cold press of a wedding band against his cheek. “I’ve been waiting a long, long time for you.”

 

* * *

 

 **Variation Two:** Jace, Izzy, Clary, and Simon visit Alec’s place in the morning, and meet Alec’s unexpected roommate.

 

It’s not every day that Alec Lightwood allows you to carpool with him, so when your car breaks down and it _needs_ to be in the shop, and your only other options to get to work via a winding 5.5hrs path by foot or suffer a blistering hour-long subway ride getting uncomfortably intimate with your other standing mates, when he says he will drive you, you take that opportunity and run with it, never looking back. 

Luckily Alec lives relatively close by, and it's easy enough to gather Jace, Izzy, and Clary and go for a morning stroll amongst the joggers and the suits, who always seem to be going somewhere, always in a rush. They reach Alec's building in a comfortable fifteen minutes – a handsome Brooklyn brownstone, fenced off with French iron gates that lead up to steep steps, with happy clouds of smoke billowing from its chimney. 

Izzy says Alec got lucky finding this place – claims the rent for this kind of 'rustic' charm is worth every penny, while Jace says its hipster as fuck. 

When they finally reach the top landing (pausing a good long minute to catch their respective breaths), they rap at the door only to hear Alec yell from inside, "Come on in, it's open."

When they enter, they see Alec sitting at a small round mahogany table, engrossed in the finance section of the newspaper, inattentively eating cereal. He makes a vague gesture to his couch and says something that sounds like, "make yourself at home," through a mouthful of corn flakes. However, when Clary and Simon round the corner, it's the person sitting across from Alec that catches their attention. 

There's a _ghost_ sitting across from Alec, a translucent figure with hair perfectly coifed and make-up perfectly done, impeccably dressed, outfitted in what looks like a silk tunic, intricate details in the lapels evident even in translucency, what would have likely been threads of gold if it were a real, physical thing. Said figure is trying to eat handfuls of froot loops from the box – only for the froot loops to fall through him, and land in a small puddle on the chair, some of the loose cereal spilling onto the floor. 

Izzy and Jace don't even react to this, they don't pay the figure any mind. Jace says, "Hey Magnus", as he walks to the living room and flops ungracefully into Alec's couch, while Izzy comes over, gives the ghost a peck on the cheek, then walks over to the kitchen and starts poking into Alec's cupboards. 

Meanwhile, Simon and Clary are silently freaking out. They're giving each other _the look_ , as if to confirm they're both seeing the same thing – there's a fucking ghost in Alec's place – and it's not because there's a gas leak, nor the lack of oxygen to the brain (hey, those steps were _steep_ ) that's causing a hallucination. 

"Um, Clary... are you... are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Clary doesn't look away from Magnus, who has now floated over to join Izzy in the kitchen. "You mean the fact that, no-nonsense Alec Lightwood lives with a ghost?"

Simon and Clary's terse conversation is interrupted by the sound of metal hitting solid wood. Everyone turns to see a spoon lying innocently in the middle of the kitchen floor, Magnus hovering over it with a sheepish smile, as he says, "Oh dear, I always forget that I can't pick things up."

Jace snorts from somewhere behind the backrest of the couch, "You somehow picked Alec up."

And now _the look_ is back, both Clary's and Simon's eyes as wide as saucers, as they simultaneously mouth to each other, _Alec Lightwood is dating a ghost???_

Clary clears her throat, and finally gathers the courage to ask the question that's clearly on the forefront of her mind, that desperately needs an answer before she's going to declare herself mentally insane, "Jace, do you mean to say that Alec is SEEING a _ghost_?"

Izzy pipes up from somewhere in the kitchen, "Clary, I think the only logical conclusion to come to here is that we're all definitely seeing a ghost."

Magnus is pouting at them as he's floated over to them (how did he get here so fast?), hands on his hips. "I'm _right_ here. Simon and Clary, right? My name's Magnus." He holds a hand to each of them, only for Simon and Clary's hands to fall right through. "Hah, that gets me every time."

"Yeah, that's drop dead funny, Magnus. A real classy prank," Jace's voice floats over from the couch once again, even though only his legs are in view, strewn over the armrest. 

Magnus frowns at that, going solemn, as he says, "As someone who was murdered, I take offence to that."

Simon and Clary's eyes grow wide once again, as Simon whispers, "Oh my god."

Magnus breaks out into laughter, a pleasant tinkling sound, like chimes blowing in the wind. "Haha, just kidding! You should have seen your faces. Are all of Alec's colleagues this serious?" He's looking at them with, somehow, a gleam in his eye. 

Simon, still spooked, just continues to whisper conspiratorially, "So… how exactly did you die, Magnus?"

Magnus doesn't exactly answer, just gives them a beaming smile.

"And you're _seeing_ Alec?" Clary is still having difficulty processing this tidbit. 

"Yeah," Simon chimes in again, curious, "like my bad if this is TMI or whatever, but how does a physical being and a ghost, like, you know, be intimate with each other–" 

Magnus just smiles again.

"Okay guys, I'm done. Let's go." In the two minutes that it took for Simon and Clary to process everything, Alec's somehow cleared all his dishes, cleaned the pile of froot loops, and put on his jacket and shoes. He holds the door open and looks expectantly at them, as if they're the ones who were late in the first place. 

With one last look at Magnus, Jace, Izzy, Clary, and Simon all file out of Alec's place, Alec turning to Magnus before he shuts the door. Alec gives Magnus a chaste kiss on the lips, and says, "I'll see you tonight." (Simon is clearly still freaking out somewhere in the background since he says, "What if you're kissing INSIDE Magnus, Alec?" which just causes Jace to gag). 

“Yes you will,” promises Magnus. “Simon, you should swing by around 10:45pm tonight if you want a firsthand look into how–”

“No he won’t, because then there actually _will_ be a murder in this apartment,” says Alec.

“Fine,” says Magnus dramatically. “Ruin all my fun.”

As Alec backs up further into the hall, Magnus gives then all a final wave, and the door swings gently closed. Simon just mutters (more to himself), "what a morning," as they run down the stairs of Alec's brownstone, and step out into the New York traffic, to finally get to work.


	5. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #5. Choice;**  
>  **Variation one:** Magnus and Alec receive an invitation to an event from the Mayor of New York City. [State of Grace universe]  
>  **Variation two:** Magnus can’t make up his mind about what colour to paint his new baby's nursery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **bumblebeesknees** wanted everyone to know that in her mind, the role of the ex-underwear model current mayor of NYC is played by 36 year old Chris Pine. The ending is a cop-out and she's so incredibly sorry. 
> 
> **partnerincrime** initially wanted to write about malec deciding what to order for takeout and it somehow the story (d)evolved into this.

**Variation one:** Magnus and Alec receive an invitation to an event from the Mayor of New York City. [[State of Grace universe]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11706309)

  


For the last three weeks, Rafael and Marianna have been hopping around southeast Asia for their honeymoon, and they’ve been sending piles of postcards. These postcards are essentially printed photos Alec’s eldest son has been taking with a selfie stick with a message scribbled on the back. Maria always looks embarrassed and resigned but helplessly fond, while Raf makes faces at the camera, an arm thrown around Maria’s shoulders and a huge grin on his face. 

It’s the only reason they’ve started frequently checking their physical mail. Or rather, partway through breakfast Alec usually remembers and says, “Oh, we should see if Raf–” and Max waves his hand and summons the contents of the mailbox. Today’s no different. 

Or so Alec thinks, until Max starts rifling through today’s receipts:

“Dad, catch,” he says casually, throwing a fancy looking envelope Alec’s way that Alec barely manages to grab out of the air before it lands in his cereal. “It’s a letter from your lover.”

Magnus chokes on the blueberries he’d been absently plopping into his mouth. _“What?”_

 _”What?”_ repeats Alec, dropping the extravagant, cream coloured envelope faster than he would have if it was on fire. It ends up in his cereal.

“The Mayor,” explains Max. “It’s from his office. What d’you think it says? Would he really send something scandalous here? Where Papa and I _live?_ ”

He looks far too gleeful and Alec glares at him. “This isn’t funny, Max.”

“Yeah, probably not to you,” agrees Max. “But look at Papa’s face.”

Alec looks at Magnus, who’s staring at the soggy envelope in Alec’s with such ferocity that the paper actually starts to singe at the corner. “He doesn’t look like he finds you funny either.”

Max looks alarmed when he gets a good look at Magnus’ face. He sends Alec an apologetic look before turning his imploring gaze on Magnus. 

“Yikes, Papa, don’t be mad,” he says. “People hit on you all the time and Dad doesn’t even blink! You know I wouldn’t be saying any of this if the Mayor wasn’t a huge clown for thinking that he has a chance with someone so totally out of his leag–”

“Max, can you just go – do whatever it is that you do with your day,” says Alec, rubbing his temples. At the same time, Magnus says, “I think we should see what he has to say.”

“Uh,” says Alec. “I think we should set this on fire.”

“Don’t be silly, Alexander,” says Magnus. “We’re professionals. We have a partnership with the Mayor’s office. You need him to help you do your job to protect the city.”

“Yeah, but clearly this guy bothers you more than you’re letting on,” says Alec. 

It’s the wrong thing to say. Max groans, and Magnus straightens up. He summons the ruined envelope into his hand and with a snap of his fingers its back to being pristine.

“I’m not bothered by this fool,” says Magnus. The look on his face is one that Alec’s intimately familiar with, one that promises that no matter what Alec says – Magnus’ mind has been made up.

And that’s how Alec and Magnus end up going to the Mayor’s thirty-seventh birthday party.

-

Magnus isn’t threatened by the Mayor. It’s not just that Magnus is more clever, more attractive, more charming, more stylish, more powerful. His and Alec’s marriage is as solid as a rock and while Magnus is aware that his chest is cracked open when it comes to Alec – that Alec could reach in and crush his heart with just a flick of his wrist – he also knows that Alec never will. It would be the greatest disrespect to even entertain the thought.

So no, Magnus isn’t threatened. 

He’s _annoyed_. 

Alec shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable working with this man – and as fun as it is, Magnus shouldn’t have to casually put his possessiveness on display like he did before Rafael’s wedding, and then at the Met Gala a few months before that. Magnus has no problem playing the role of a jealous spouse to get this taken care of.

Alec looks suspicious when Magnus says they should take the Maserati there. “You want _me_ to drive us there in a car that you love more than you love me?”

“What, you think just because we’ve been married for twenty-two years you don’t need to take me places anymore?” 

“Don’t be cute. The Maserati deserves better than being driven in New York City in January.”

But Alec never denies Magnus anything, and so they take the Maserati. Magnus basically has a religious experience when Alec tosses the keys to the valet with ease. There are photographers and press present – which Magnus already predicted, given that the party was at the Empire Hotel and the Mayor is an ex-underwear model who still maintains excellent connections in the fashion industry – and Alec looks like he’s barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes as he walks over to the passengers’ side and offers Magnus his arm for them to walk in together.

In a low voice, Alec says, “This is a bad idea. We should meet at the roof in thirty minutes and portal out.” 

“And leave the car here?” says Magnus. “Alexander, that’s just absurd.”

“The things I do for you,” jokes Alec, except in Magnus’ reality, it’s nothing but the truth. Catching sight of the guest of honour as they step into the ballroom, Alec sighs and says, “All right. Let’s get our game faces on.”

“This’ll be fun,” promises Magnus. “And if it isn’t, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

The Mayor has a real name – and on the long list of regrets Magnus has accumulated over his long life, voting for this man in the elections two years ago is near the top – but Magnus will always just refer to him as the Mayor. It sounds like the moniker of a villain, which is only fitting as he’s Magnus’ nemesis of this decade.

The man does try his best to pretend he hasn’t got his sights set on Alec, but it’s like he can’t stop himself. Magnus doesn’t miss the way his gaze goes from Alec’s eyes to his mouth before dragging back up to his eyes, and it’s even more obvious because Alec isn’t talking. 

The way he greets the two of them though is warm and charming and faultless to a degree that even Magnus is impressed. “Ah, the Lightwood-Banes! Glad to see the two of you could make it.”

“Of course,” says Alec stiffly. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Just returning the favour,” says the Mayor, and that’s another one of Magnus’ regrets: inviting this man to Alec’s – official – birthday celebration last year. “Though hopefully there’ll be slightly less excitement today.”

Hah, thinks Magnus. Not if he has anything to say about it.

  


* * *

  


**Variation Two:** Magnus can’t make up his mind about what colour to paint his new baby's nursery. 

  


“What about this colour? What do you think about this one, Alexander?”

An eyebrow raise. “…What exactly am I looking at here?”

“‘Rhythmic blue’ versus, this here, ‘wondrous blue’. Which one looks more ‘Max’ to you?”

“Magnus, unless I’ve gone colourblind, the paint guys conned you into buying two cans of the same thing.”

“ _Alexander_ , you need to take this seriously! Rhythmic blue has this soft gray undertone, while this–” A wave of hands, and the whole room blinks blue again, “this one is definitely more of a robin egg blue don’t you think?” 

“Magnus, what’s the point if buying paintbrushes and trays if you just magic the paint in the walls–”

“Doesn’t this one clash more with crib?” 

“The crib is white… nothing will clash with the crib.” 

“It’s actually pale _cream_. How about the dresser then?”

“The dresser’s good.”

“ _Good?_?” The tail end of his voice rises in an indignant squawk. 

“Yeah. It’ll hold a lot of clothes.”

A pause.

"Magnus, don't give me that look. It's _perfect_. You know it is."

“How about the rug then? Do you think he could be allergic to wool? I can change that too.” Another flick of the wrist. 

“…Magnus, what exactly is going on here? I know you only get like this when something's on your mind.” 

An audible frown. “Everything just needs to be perfect.”

“Why? Our baby's not going to hold you accountable for the rug for the rest of his life. I can tell you with 100% certainty that if I can't tell the difference, he's _definitely_ not going to notice.”

"But what if he gets _sick_ , Alexander? What will the social worker say?"

“The social worker isn’t going to rescind our adoption papers just because the rug is made of wool, Magnus. What were his exact words again? Ah yes – I quote, ‘that you two are wonderful, _wonderful_ candidates with the most outstanding character references, if only all applicants could be as _amazing_ as the High Warlock of Brooklyn and the Head of the New York Institute.’" 

"No need to humble brag. Although, it's a good thing he took those things at face value and didn't go any deeper into my file."

"…I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but me too?"

A drawn out silence. 

“Magnus, you can tell me what’s wrong. Please.” A pleading look. 

A pause. And then – "Was this… was this the right thing to do?"

"What do you mean? To adopt Max?"

"No, no… I mean, what if… what if I'm a bad parent?”

Movement, several quick steps forward. A touch on the cheek. “Magnus, why would you ever think that? You’ll be a great dad.”

“I… I don’t know, Alexander. Let’s just say I don’t think I’ve had the best parental figures growing up, and my childhood left something to be desired.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is who you are now – you're become an extraordinary person, full of love and wisdom, always giving and never taking. Max will be lucky to call you his dad."

"Yes, but is that enough? We're going be responsible for this fragile, little person who’s relying on us to survive…" The wringing of hands. "Doesn't it scare you Alexander? That someone's whole life is in our hands?" 

Hands hold hands, fingers entangled, clutched tight. "It does, but it's only natural. It's a new experience. It's alright to be scared. I know I take comfort in the fact that I have you with me, because you're so good at protecting who you love – you're so quick and fierce in your devotion." 

"What do you mean by that?" A worried look. 

"I don’t know if you've realized but, it's as if… family – love – it just comes so easy to you. When I think about the amount of loyalty you inspire in Raphael, the adoration that Madzie has for you, people are drawn to you. I think it's because they – _we_ know that you would do anything for us. And in Max's case, it won't be any different."

"But everything before just fell into my lap – the title of High Warlock, Guadalupe and Raph, Madzie…"

"Magnus, you've _always_ had a choice. You chose to take them all in, make them your family. Just like you are now."

Shoulders relax. A relieved sigh. Liquid eyes. "Alexander, you are truly a godsend. My better half. What would I do without you?"

A squeeze of the hand. "We may not make every right decision along the way, but we'll deal with the consequences together. Just like we've always done."

A whisper. “What if Max doesn’t like me?”

A hug. A kiss. “Magnus, who on earth wouldn’t like you?”

“You should have met the guy who came in for my 3 o'clock appointment today.”

"Stop it. That guy wore crocs and was an idiot. Max will love you."

A peck on the lips. "Alright, alright." A long look at the walls. "I'll go with rhythmic blue, I think. It reminds me of the colour of the surf on that lovely beach in California, the one with the purple sand." 

They unravel from one another. "As long as Max doesn’t end up deciding he wants to be a sea captain or a pirate when he's older, I'm all for it. Water and shadowhunters really don't mix."

A laugh. "I don't think you have anything to fear, Alexander. After all, it's just wall paint."


	6. Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #6 - Immortal**  
>  **Variation one:** Magnus Bane, the world’s most notorious assassin, gets hired to “take out” Alec Lightwood. Thankfully, there’s more than one way to interpret that job.  
>  **Variation two:** Alec gets stuck at a My Immortals concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! both of us are very very sorry for: 1) totally copping out with the “immortal” prompt and making both these fills hilarious instead of anything remotely poignant and meaningful, and 2) for taking almost two months to post a new short story. D: hopefully you guys enjoy reading both <3 <3
> 
> also: thank you to everyone who reads and comments on these stories! if there are any "one word" prompts you guys would like to see us fill, please let us know and we will try our best to fulfill them for the next story. :D

  
  
**Prompt #6 – Immortal**  
  


**Variation one:** Magnus Bane, the world’s most notorious assassin, gets hired to “take out” Alec Lightwood. Thankfully, there’s more than one way to interpret that job.

  


On principle, Magnus hates most of the people who hire him even though he acknowledges he has no place casting stones. From suspect politicians, to mob bosses, to ruthless businessmen and spurned lovers, it takes a certain kind of person to seek out a professional killer – and an even smaller subset within that to have the capital to actually afford Magnus’ services. 

Of the whole lot, Azazel is the worst of them. Sadly, he’s also the richest and most capable of Magnus’ clients. Magnus honestly doesn’t know why the man even bothers to contract him – Azazel clearly has the capacity to carry out an efficient, cold-blooded murder without getting a drop of blood in his twenty thousand dollar bespoke suit – but the money’s good and Magnus has expensive tastes and a certain kind of lifestyle he has to finance.

And so Magnus indulges in some scathing banter with the man over Sunday morning brunch, ignores his growing existential crisis, and accepts the dossier handed to him involving details on his next hit. 

“FBI’s Agent Alec Lightwood,” says Azazel between bites of fluffy pancakes. “Already raided five of my trafficking rings in the last two months. LA, Miami, Chicago, Baltimore, and Atlanta. He’s about to start in on New York. I need you to take him out before he starts at the field office.”

“That’s pretty short notice,” says Magnus. “You know this is going to cost you your entire Swiss account.”

“I already wired you half a million,” says Azazel, bored. “You’ll get the other half once the job’s done.”

Magnus can’t help but gape at the numbers. Azazel must really want this Agent Lightwood dead, to be willing to pay two times Magnus’ going rate upfront and do the same again at the end of the job. Granted, someone who can dismantle five of Azazel’s criminal epicenters in such a short period of time probably needs to be taken care of sooner rather than later. 

And then Magnus opens the folder handed to him.

 _Oh,_ he thinks, looking at the unsmiling photo of Agent Lightwood. He takes in the lines around his full mouth, the tousled dark hair, and the huge hazel eyes seem to be drilling straight through Magnus, right into his core.

“You look startled,” says Azazel conversationally. “Tell me, Magnus – is it harder to kill a pretty face?”

-

 

The best way to carry out a hit is to really know the target and their habits – their likes, dislikes, what danger they’re alert for. It makes it easier to figure out when to strike and what method to use. Magnus is a decent sniper, but usually he tries not to use that method unless part of the job is to send a public message. 

Azazel never wants to send a message. He just wants results. A quick and efficient poisoning will do just fine, thinks Magnus. Something to trigger a hemorrhage, maybe. Much cleaner than obvious murder. 

Unfortunately, that means a few days of surveillance to figure out the opportune moment to execute said poisoning.

At first glance, Agent Lightwood is possibly the most boring person Magnus has ever had the misfortune to scope out as a target, even though he makes up for it with his great face and shirtless workouts he does every morning. In the three days that Magnus cases him, Lightwood has the exact same schedule: he wakes up before sunrise, goes for a run, and does exactly fifty push-ups and fifty crunches. Breakfast is always bought at a small restaurant. He always wears black suits to work, gets lunch delivered to the office, goes out as his cases and investigations requires. He usually calls his brother or sister in the evening over dinner, works some more, reads a chapter of _The Power of Context_ , and goes to sleep.

As Raphael would say: boring as fuck.

Magnus is so annoyed at what a boring target Lightwood is that he eventually concludes that he must be missing something. Lightwood is clearly competent at his job if his solve rate is anything to go by, and Magnus has read everything he can about the man online and watched the statements he’s personally given to the press. 

What if Lightwood knows that he is under observation and gets the jump on Magnus when he finally goes in for the kill? That outcome is simply unacceptable, and that resolution is what prompts Magnus into doing something a little unorthodox: he sets up a run-in.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” says Magnus the next day, pulling his face into an expression of extreme dismay as he stares at the coffee staining Agent Lightwood’s crisp, pale blue shirt, courtesy of Magnus’ well timed collision. “Are you all right? I don’t want to be the source of causing a second degree burn but you can definitely sue the restaurant owners if–”

“It’s fine,” interrupts Lightwood, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s – it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Excuse me.” 

And then he starts to walk away – toward his apartment, Magnus knows – and the broad line of his back makes such a pleasing sight that Magnus is temporarily distracted from his goal. 

Of course, he comes back online just seconds later. 

“Wait!” calls out Magnus, running after him. Lightwood just starts to walk faster. What an asshole, Magnus thinks admiringly as he catches up and snags Lightwood’s elbow. “Wait, I can’t just let you go like that. I feel awful. At least – Jesus, you walk fast – at least let me pay for your dry cleaning. Do you have a card?”

“Uh,” says Lightwood, eyes going from Magnus’ fingers clenched around his sleeve to meet Magnus’ gaze. His hazel irises are even more jarring in person. Slowly extracting his arm, Lightwood says, “Listen, you don’t have to do this. I live just around the corner and I just want to get on with my day.”

Something about the way Lightwood’s eyes keep flitting over Magnus’ face though has Magnus thinking.

In the three days of surveying him, Magnus has not found any hint of a love life for Lightwood. It’s possible that he’s currently single, or that he left behind someone at his previous location – but Magnus wouldn’t have gotten where he is today if he hadn’t built a finely tuned instinct about these things.

“Okay,” says Magnus, giving Lightwood his most winning smile. He takes out his wallet and pulls out the business cards he has made for the identity he chose for this encounter – Dr. Magnus Bane, PhD in History and professor at Columbia; it’s not even fake – and tucks it into the front pocket of Lightwood’s blazer. “And what if instead of paying for your dry cleaning, I pay for your dinner tonight?”

“Dinner tonight?” repeats Alec, and the way he blinks owlishly at Magnus is – it’s charming, instead of being annoying and airheaded. “What? Why?”

“Because I believe in fate,” says Magnus, a bullshit line he’s made up for such incidents. “And I’d like to think that me running into a gorgeous man at seven in the morning and spilling coffee all over him and not have him yell at me must be a sign from the universe. Who am I to argue against providence?”

Lightwood is trying to tamp down a smile, but he doesn’t quite manage it. Score, thinks Magnus.

“You have pretty low standards if that’s all you’re looking for.”

“What can I say,” says Magnus. “I’ve had some bad luck. I’m Magnus, by the way. Magnus Bane.”

“Alec Lightwood,” says Lightwood, and when he takes a hold of Magnus’ hand to shake it, Magnus notices his hands are rough. Callused in the exact places it would be from frequently handling a gun. It causes a shiver to run down Magnus’ spine. 

Magnus has killed people before who have had no crimes except that they got on the wrong side of someone more powerful, but Lightwood is – there’s something about him. Magnus can’t quite put his finger on it. _That’s why you’re doing recon,_ he has to remind himself. 

Gathering himself together, Magnus says, “All right then, Alec Lightwood. Do I have a shot at dinner or are you going to make me work harder for that number?’

-

 

Lightwood gives Magnus his FBI card. Magnus calls him during lunch, flirts, and coaxes out a date for seven o’clock tonight. Somehow, in that ten minute conversation, Lightwood becomes _Alec_ in Magnus’ mind, and he can’t quite figure out why the man is being so cagey when he’s clearly interested, and Magnus asks him so when they finally sit down together at the restaurant in the evening.

“I don’t do this sort of thing often,” Alec admits. 

“Go out with strange men who spill coffee on you on the street?”

“Go out, in general,” corrects Alec, and Magnus blinks, surprised. “That’s why I was – being the way I was. I don’t really know how normal people are in these situations.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t because you didn’t want to,” says Magnus, jokingly. “I know I can be somewhat pushy–”

“I wanted to,” interrupts Alec. “Have you seen yourself? I – of course I wanted to.”

“Oh,” says Magnus, and the colour on Alec’s face deepens. Alec had already been delightfully flushed from earlier, when he’d shown up at the restaurant with flowers because, “I’d already bought them before you texted and said we could just meet here and – well, they’re for you, so,” and held them out to Magnus with a look of such extreme mortification on his face that Magnus had been helpless to do anything but accept and say, “They’re lovely, thank you.”

“I’m glad you made an exception for me then,” continues Magnus. “So tell me about yourself, Alexander. What do you do when you’re not stopping yourself from losing your temper on the sidewalk?’

And over the course of the next two hours, Magnus gets his second glimpse into Alec Lightwood and comes to the realization that he’s made a huge, huge mistake. 

There are approximately seventy-three times during the date that Magnus has this thought, starting with seeing Alec holding that huge bouquet of white roses. If he really has to though, Magnus can narrow it down to three critical moments. 

The first:

“I’m definitely the underachiever in my family,” says Alec, though he doesn’t sound too torn up about it. 

“What?” asks Magnus, not understanding. “If my quick Google of your name–” ha, _quick_ , Magnus spent three hours after Azazel came to him scouring for every piece of information on this man, “–just now is any indication, then you’re a rising star in the Bureau.”

“No I’m not. Izzy though – Izzy’s only twenty-five and she’s already a resident in a hospital in Chicago.” His voice is practically bursting with pride. “My brother Jace – you probably saw him on ESPN. Left-wing for the Montreal Canadiens. And then there’s Max – he’s some kind of prodigy. He’ll be going to MIT next year and he’s only fourteen. Now that’s amazing.”

The second:

“I don’t know if I joined the Bureau because it’s rewarding work,” says Alec, frowning. “I just knew that it takes people to do this job to keep the world a semi-safe place to live, and I didn’t see why it shouldn’t be me. Not when I had the capability.” Shaking his head a little as though to clear his thoughts, Alec adds, “What about you? How’d you get into teaching?”

Then finally, just outside the door to Raphael’s apartment which Magnus has procured for the night:

“I know you were making up that stuff about fate,” says Alec, hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and meeting Magnus’ eyes straight on. “And I don’t really understand why you wanted to go out with me, but. I’m glad you did. And I hope you had a good time, and would want to do it again.”

Mouth dry and heart hammering his chest, Magnus says, “I have the feeling I’d regret it for a long, long time if I said no to seeing you again.”

Alec looks physically relieved and it makes something twist in Magnus’ heart. “That’s – that’s really good to hear.”

“I aim to please,” murmurs Magnus, 

“You don’t have to aim to do anything with me,” says Alec, and the frank sincerity of the statement has all of Magnus feeling misaligned, trying to tune himself to Alec’s resonance so that he can understand how a person can be this way. Swallowing a little in a way that makes his Adam’s apple move alluringly in his throat, Alec says, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” says Magnus before Alec even finishes his ask, and the moment his mouth touches Alec, jaw cradled carefully in between Alec’s impossible large hands, Magnus feels like he’s at the epicenter of a spinning galaxy.

Right, thinks Magnus, closing his eyes. This entire day has been a mistake, but not in the way he had been expecting. Thankfully, there’s an easy solution to this.

-

 

As soon as Magnus shuts the door behind him, he pulls out his phone and dials Azazel’s number. 

“Ah, Magnus,” says Azazel when he picks up after the second ring. “I’m glad you called. Has there been an update? Did you take Lightwood out?”

“Oh, I took him out,” says Magnus. “To dinner. And I learned a lot. He has a cat named Buttercup, who he calls Betty for short. He’s got a teenaged brother he’s the guardian of. His middle name is Gideon and he went into the FBI because he wants to help people. He looked me in the eye and told me I was beautiful and yes, many people have told me that throughout my life but Azazel, I’m pretty sure he’s the only person who meant it and didn’t use it as a precursor to get into my pants. Do you know how rare it is to find someone like this?”

"What the fuck?” Azazel sounds as perturbed as it is possible for him to sound. “I don’t care if this guy’s the second coming of Jesus, Magnus. I hired you to kill the man, not start doodling Mr. Lightwood-Bane all over your black book like some lovestruck preteen.”

“Too late,” says Magnus. “And about the killing business. I wired the money back. Needless to say, that’s not happening.” On the other end of the line, Azazel makes a noise that sounds like he’s physically choking on bewildered rage. Magnus adds, “And if you or anyone else comes after him, I’m going to stop you. I’m not fucking around here.”

“What the fuck,” repeats Azazel softly. 

“I’m going legitimate,” says Magnus. “You can spread the word. I can’t marry an FBI agent while being number three on InterPol’s most wanted.” As an afterthought, he adds, “But I’ll be sure to send you a wedding invite out of courtesy. For introducing us.”

  


* * *

  


**Variation two:** Alec gets stuck at a My Immortals concert.

  


Alec’s feelings for Izzy and Jace are, for the most part, refreshingly simple. Family is family and no level of bickering and teasing could change that because, at the root of it, there is an unwavering love there, one that ultimately comes with being a big brother. 

In fact, when he really thinks about it, Alec can only think of six other instances in his twenty-or-so years of existence in which the bonds between Izzy and Jace and him had been truly tested, in which he was unsure that they would successfully maneuver the perils of the encounter for them to emerge on the other side, stronger and closer than ever. 

Now is another one of those times. 

As the numbers of the dashboard’s digital clock strikes an ominous 12:13am, Alec thrums his fingers impatiently against the wheel. _Where the fuck were Izzy and Jace?_ He slumps his head against the wheel, and the car horn bleats out a sorrowful wail into the night. 

Alec’s not sure how he got roped into giving Izzy and Jace a ride to and from their _My Immortals_ concert, the latest punk-emo band smashing the billboard charts with a succession of number one hits, but he does vaguely recall it did involve copious amounts of blackmail and a final promise from Izzy to square away the last bits of his “debt” to finally call them even (coincidentally, Jace did not make a similar promise). It seemed like a good deal at the time when Izzy had told him that all he had to do was “drop us at the venue at 9, then just come around again at 11:30pm – the concert should be done by then. We’ll text you!”

Unfortunately for Alec, he doesn’t realize he’s made a terrible mistake until 9:28pm, after he’s made a succession of poor decisions, starting with the split-second decision to hop out of his car to grab a coffee at a nearby vendor, where he’s uncomfortably sandwiched in line by two girls in the shortest shorts and darkest eyeliner, and a teen with a physics-defying Mohawk, who all sway too close into Alec’s personal space. 

Twenty minutes later, when he escapes out of the line and back to his car, he realizes four key things: his faded dark green Corolla is trapped by an asshole who decides to park perpendicular behind him; there’s no cell reception at the arena; this coffee tastes like shit; and, as the opening act begins to play, he learns that he _hates_ punk-emo music. 

\--

When the opening act draws to a close and _My Immortals_ finally introduces themselves, Alec’s already finished eight games of FreeCell (and only two losses – he’s still got it) and is already into phase two of his revenge strategy against Izzy and Jace. He’s moved onto making the difficult decision to either roll up or down the windows to either suffocate on the stuffy air in the car, or get high off the thick scent of weed that carpets the venue respectively. He opts for the latter – in a hopeful attempt that the hallucinogenic properties will eventually make him like the music. 

It doesn’t. He rolls the window back up, and the next two hours for Alec are understandably, excruciating and painfully long. 

At 11:42pm, after about thirty more games of FreeCell and his phone’s low battery signal blinks at him in warning, Alec feels a swell of hope when he sees fireworks cascading in a shower of gold and red stars over the arena – a sign that the concert is coming to an end. The hope however, is quickly extinguished when he hears the crowd chant “Encore! Encore!” and he hears another thrum vibrate around him as someone strikes a chord on an electric guitar and the crowd erupts into thunderous applause. 

It’s a rollercoaster of rage and exasperation, and Alec hates it – he face plants into the steering wheel again and the car cries out in sympathetic agony. 

He only looks up at 12:14, when he hears a rap on his window – and he’s greeted with the sight of a man with gunmetal eyeshadow and kohl eyeliner staring back at him. The man gives a little wave and gestures for Alec to roll down his window. 

Alec, being the sensible man that he is, locks the car door and starts the engine, only to roll the window down by an inch. “…Yes?” he asks tentatively. 

“Hey, I was just walking back to get something from my… car and I heard your horn. You alright?” He has a hand on the roof of Alec’s car as he peers through the crack in the window. 

“Uh, yeah – I guess,” Alec mutters. Upon closer inspection, the man standing outside his car is devilishly handsome – soft lips and liquid eyes that glimmer gold under the soft glow cascaded by the floodlights above. Alec doesn’t know what prompts him to continue the conversation – it’s either the two-hour cabin fever or the weed – but the next thing he knows, he blurts out, “I’ve been trapped here for two hours.”

The man quirks an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? You weren’t able to get tickets?”

“Please,” Alec scoffs. “I wouldn’t be caught dead here.”

The man looks taken aback and gives Alec a strange look, to which Alec hastily adds, “I mean, no offense if you’re a fan of this stuff, but it isn’t exactly my cup of tea.”

“Well, clearly you’ve survived the ordeal,” the man says, as his lips curl into a smirk as he fiddles with his earcuff. Alec’s eyes trace the elegant movement and the heavy rings that adorn the man’s fingers. “If you hate the band so much, why exactly are you here?”

“I got blackmailed,” Alec mutters. “My brother and sister love them.”

“Well, I for one, say your siblings have extraordinarily good taste,” the man says. He leans closer to the window and Alec can see a tattoo that looks like a Z with a line through it splayed on the man’s neck. Alec normally hates tattoos (the lecture he had given Izzy and Jace when they both turned up one night, tattoos covering their forearms, nearly blew the house down) but something jolts heavy in his gut when he sees it – he wets his lips. 

The man looks at him expectantly. _Shit_. “Sorry, could you repeat that?” Alec asks. 

“I asked if you’ve even seen the band live before? You never know – they’re electric live. And the lead singer is _extremely_ good-looking.” 

Alec wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know about that… from what Izzy tells me, the drummer always wears green body paint.” 

The man laughs and Alec can hear his hand hit the roof of his car. “Okay then, Mr. Judgement. Tell me then, what’s good music to you?” The humour in the man’s voice is evident, and Alec can’t help smiling back, his guard unusually low. 

It must be something in the air tonight – with stranger danger literally out the window, Alec rolls down the window a little further. 

“You gotta listen to the Classics. Queen. The Doors. Led Zeppelin. _That’s_ music.”

“Stuck in the 70s are you?” Alec can hear the man’s fingers patter over his roof, as if he’s playing a guitar riff. “Well, I’m always down to rock and roll, if you catch me in the right mood.” He gives Alec a wink. 

Alec feels his cheeks grow hot. “I’m Alec, by the way.” He shoves a hand out his window. 

The man fishes a pen out of his pocket, then takes Alec’s hand into his. Alec is painfully conscious of the man’s touch, as he scrawls something across Alec’s palm. “And I’m Magnus. Here’s my number.” He flashes Alec a grin. “Sorry, I gotta run – some people are waiting for me.”

“Sure,” Alec stutters out, as the man – Magnus – with his gelled fauxhawk and dark eyeliner, lets go of his hand and blows him a kiss. 

As Alec watches Magnus go, he slumps into the backseat. _Was he just flirting with a punk?_ He stares deeply at the numbers on his hand. He’s interrupted ten minutes later, by a knock on his window. 

“Alec, open the door!” It’s Izzy, in a rush. “We need to beat the crowd before we’re stuck here!” As Alec turns to the passenger side to open the door, he sees Jace, who’s decked out in so much swag, Alec barely recognizes him. He’s about to start the car before he does a double take, and looks back at the front of Jace’s shirt.

And there, staring straight back at him through the passenger window, is Magnus’ face, framed by a green-skinned man and a blue-skinned woman respectively. 

“Is that… on your shirt… _My Immortals_?” Alec asks weakly.

“Yeah, isn’t this shirt sick?” Jace looks down at it, proudly. “It’s limited edition – they even signed it!” He sighs happily. “I’m never, ever, taking this off.”

Alec’s head hits his steering wheel once more. 

\--

“Jace, can you get the door? I’ll be down in a minute.” Alec calls out, as he tugs on a clean black t-shirt. 

“I’ve got it, Alec–” Izzy calls back. Chalk it to Izzy to vet his dates. 

“Hey there, I’m Jace–” As Alec runs down the stairs, he hears Jace pause.

“Do you… have the wrong house?” Izzy asks, voice faltering. 

“I don’t think so,” Alec hears Magnus reply as he rounds the door. When he sees Magnus, there’s an amused grin on his face. “Ah, Alec,” Magnus says, as he leans in to peck Alec on the cheek. 

Both Jace and Izzy squeak and turn to Alec. “You fucker! You hate _My Immortals_!”

“I’ve seen the live show,” Alec says, “And I’m a changed man. What can I say - the lead singer is absolutely magic.”


	7. Open your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #7 - Open your eyes**  
>  **Variation one:** As a gift to Magnus for his birthday, Alec fulfills one of his often-asked requests.  
>  **Variation two:** Magnus met his soulmate somewhere along the way, but he doesn’t know who it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an apology for our hiatus, we’re doing something miraculous and innovative – posting twice in one week! Enjoy!

  
  
**Prompt #7 – Open your eyes**  
  


**Variation one:** As a gift to Magnus for his birthday, Alec fulfills one of his often-asked requests. (aka bumblebeesknees has an obvious makeup kink) 

  


Alec’s body is a warrior’s weapon, bearing the marks of runes and healed battle wounds. He’s never going to understand how exactly any of it is desirable to Magnus, to be touched and kissed and consumed by him. But Alec’s practical, if nothing else, and there’s enough evidence Alec has gathered in the time that they have been together to know exactly _what_ Magnus likes – Alec working out, Alec wrapped up in nothing but Magnus’ bedsheets, Alec practicing his shots, Alec wearing anything Magnus has ever given him – even if he doesn’t understand the _why_. 

He supposes it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Alec knows that the way Magnus looks at him, it feels like being hurtled toward the sun. 

Staring at the bathroom mirror right now and scrutinizing the sweep of liquid black lining his eyes, Alec only hopes that this isn’t a total disaster. 

“Alexander,” Magnus calls out from the other side of the door, where Alec had sat him down on the bed and told him not to go anywhere until Alec was back. “What exactly are you doing to yourself in there? I’m starting to worry.”

“I’m done,” replies Alec, straightening his shoulders. He’s been done for the last two minutes, but the truth is that he could probably take another two hours to psych himself up. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“They’re closed, I promise.”

Alec thinks about taking off his clothes before stepping out, but Magnus usually enjoys being the one to do that – Alec understands this, since he could spend hours on Magnus unbuttoning each button and kissing every new inch of golden brown skin that greets him – and so he doesn’t. He puts away the eyeliner, reminds himself that Magnus would probably not bring up how good Alec would look in it multiple times in the last few months if he didn’t mean it, and steps out. 

True to his word, Magnus has his eyes closed. He must’ve gotten bored of sitting around because he’s now lying flat on his back, legs dangling over the edge of the bed and taking turns kicking the air. He sits up though when he hears Alec stepping closer, and without opening his eyes he says, “Alec, what’s this all about?”

“Wanted to do something different,” says Alec. “Not every day a guy turns four hundred and thirty-two.”

“I thought it was four hundred and twenty-six?” 

“You think you look young enough to pull off four hundred and twenty-six?” 

A shocked laugh escapes Magnus.

“That’s downright vicious, Alexander,” he says approvingly. Alec gets down on a knee in front of Magnus, runs his hands slowly along the sides of Magnus’ thighs in silent apology.

“Yes, well, I couldn’t let you hit this milestone and be one of the reasons that you hadn’t seen and done everything you wanted.”

“Everything I...” Magnus trails off, eyebrows drawing together. “Alexander, am I going to see you wearing something terribly naughty?”

Alec feels his face grow hot. 

“Maybe for four hundred and thirty-three,” he says, embarrassed. It’s not that Alec hadn’t thought about it. He’ll just probably need the whole year to work up to that. “Thought I’d start with something easier.” Taking a deep breath, he says, “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Magnus does so, and said eyes widen when they focus in on Alec. “Alexander.”

“Good?” asks Alec.

“Phenomenal,” corrects Magnus, taking Alec’s face between his hands and tilting it up towards him. The tension inside Alec vanishes at the unmistakable molten heat in Magnus’ gaze. “Can I just...”

“Go crazy,” says Alec, closing his own eyes and almost immediately feeling the most delicate trace of Magnus’ magic, presumably neatening up the lines. “You can do whatever you want to make up my face, and then I’ll start on getting into your stupidly tight pants.”

Magnus doesn’t respond with a flirtatious remark. When Alec looks at him next, there’s a doubtful expression on Magnus’ face.

“What?” asks Alec, frowning.

“I just want you to know I adore looking at you all the time,” says Magnus. Even as he says it, he carefully traces Alec’s bottom lip. There’s waxy red on Magnus’ thumb when he finally moves his hand away. “With or without this.”

Alec does know, and he can see that this conversation can easily head in a direction that it doesn’t have to. Not when Alec has never once thought he _wasn’t_ physically desired by Magnus even if the mechanics of it is still lost to him. 

Even as Alec marvels that that is the case from time to time, especially when Magnus looks like the amalgamation of every fantasy Alec has never let himself have. And so, Alec says, “I know. Just something different, right?”

With a careful wave of an arm, Magnus clears his own face of every added accent and colour. It’s still such an infrequent occurrence to see Magnus like this that Alec’s heart jumps a bit, drinking in the rare and exceptional sight in front of him.

“Right,” says Magnus, and the hand that had still been cupping Alec’s face trails down his neck to rest against his fluttering pulse. Alec’s skin tingles at the gold dust Magnus’ touch leaves behind. “Just something different.”

  


* * *

  


**Variation two:** Magnus met his soulmate somewhere along the way, but doesn’t know who it is.

  


When Magnus’ eyes turn gold, he doesn’t notice until Catarina tells him.

“Darling, let me look at you,” she says, her weathered fingers cradling his face with the inordinate grace of a dancer, nothing remotely close to the cold touch and methodical practice of a doctor who sews up people for a living. Her fingers trace the laugh lines of his eyes as she asks, her familiar voice smoky yet soft, “Who is it, Magnus? Who has captured your soul?”

“What do you mean, Cat?” he says, as he takes her hands in his and leads her to the large mirror across the room with quick steps. 

“Oh,” he says, when he looks at himself, leaning close into his reflection. His eyes are very gold – startling so – and he just keeps looking at them, catching them in the light to adjust to where black used to be. 

“Oh, indeed,” Cat says as she wraps a warm arm over his shoulder, squeezing tight. “Any idea who it may be?”

“Don’t think so.” Magnus’ fingers tug at the delicate skin around his eyes. When was the last time he’s looked at himself – this morning? Last night? A day, three days, a week? “I’m a busy man,” he murmurs, as they stand in front of the mirror for the next thirty minutes, running through every iteration of where it may have triggered, or who it could have possibly be. 

He tells Cat he’s been almost everywhere this week. Only this morning was he in London, enjoying a spot of tea with Ragnor – before stepping out into the crowds of Oxford street shortly after to resupply at his favourite apothecary. Yesterday, he must have met eyes with thousands of people, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong when he portalled out to Baozhai’s hole-in-the-wall antiquity store, performing appraisals with the tiniest spitfire of a warlock with her enormous glasses and white hair. The day before that, he’d been portalling in and out of shadowhunter Institutes across America to perform his quarterly check-ins of their wards, and must have met the eyes with a few dozen shadowhunters – Magnus never one to shy away from staring down the judgement in their eyes, grinning silently to himself when they flinched away in discomfort. 

Cat throws a pillow at him when he says he also just portalled back from Marrakesh – to pick up lunch. “You’re impossible,” she says, fondness colouring her tone.

“You love it,” Magnus teases back. In his head though, he’s sifting – wading through his memories for any sort of feeling, for that ping of recognition, that one associated with soulmates – only to come back dry. 

So in short, he tells Cat no, as she squeezes his hand, that he has no idea who his soulmate could possibly be.

\--

The exact science of soulmate recognition remains a mystery to the world, but the general gist of it is Step 1) lock eyes, and 2) the irises of your eyes burst into colour. 

Throughout majority of Magnus’ lifetime, he’s always thought the whole concept of soulmates to be somewhat ridiculous – a stupid biological evolution that had no necessity to it, like appendices and detached earlobes. It’s not until Magnus witnesses the phenomenon for the first time does he start to appreciate it a little – when he introduces Ragnor to Cat and Cat’s eyes bloom into a midnight blue, like ink in water, and Ragnor’s turn a dark green, like a forest growing overtaking an expanse of black. 

And that appreciation comes full circle when Cat and Ragnor start talking and they take to each other like a house on fire, conversing easily with such candour and familiarity that took Magnus nearly fifty years to build with each of them respectively.

He often quizzes Ragnor and Cat about that moment – if they felt anything when they saw each other, that warm sensation in the belly, the tingle in their fingers, or quickened heartbeats in the chest. He’s disappointed when they emphatically tell him no, that there isn’t anything to feel – that it’s “not like those vapid romantic comedies you watch, Magnus”. 

But he’s spoken to other soulmate pairs before, non-warlock ones, who have felt it, and its real – it just gets harder with age – the jolt of recognition apparently losing its potency as the years go by, and Magnus can only imagine how difficult it is to feel something new after 400 years of living. When he’s already felt love and pain and sorrow and happiness to last for five mortal lifetimes – that as the years go by, his current state of existence is just one long blur of a day that that never ends.

So in a couple of months, Magnus forgets about it – there’s nothing productive in the hopelessness of the chase he decides, nothing to gain that he doesn’t already have. He’s accepted the unforgiving nature of fate, its apathy and its disregard for compassion, that its likely just not in the cards for him to know who his soulmate is – that he’s just like the several thousands other people in the world, who will live and die not knowing it. 

And it’s okay, he decides – he’s perfectly content with what he has right now. He has Cat, he has Ragnor – he has his family, his business, his experiences, and his community – and while it’s taken 400 years to get here, he’s made a great life for himself, tucked away in a high-rise apartment in Brooklyn. 

So what if he doesn’t know who his soulmate is? As he takes a sip from his whiskey, Ragnor and Cat settle into their respective chairs with a pack of cards and a bottle of wine in hand, and Magnus reaffirms to himself that he’s perfectly okay with that. 

\--

When Magnus meets Alec Lightwood for the first time, it’s under the green lights of Pandemonium, when his club is under siege by Valentine’s men. 

“I’m Magnus. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” Magnus says. He’s charmed by this shadowhunter who ticks all his boxes – with his handsome face, his broad shoulders, and the calluses on his fingers he feels as they shake hands. 

“Alec,” he says, and he mutters through a few more words, a blush high on his cheeks as he something about leaving – but all Magnus can focus on is Alec’s eyes. They’re astonishing clear and vibrant, and Magnus feels like he can stare at them for days – that if he could, he would – bask in the warm and comfort that it invokes. 

Yet the colour in Alec’s eyes is so lived-in that Magnus is disappointed – this man clearly isn’t the one, he thinks, as he’s never met this shadowhunter before – that Alec has already has found his soulmate, that someone else had been the source of this feeling – that someone else was able to see Alec’s eyes explode into supernovas of hazel green. 

His disappointment further grows when he watches Jace banter with Alec, when he watches Jace fight with a fluidity with Alec, and when a memory of Jace is pulled out of Alec when they encounter the memory demon later that night. 

_Too bad,_ Magnus thinks, and doesn’t pursue it any further – he steps through his portal and leaves.

It is a big surprise however, when he finds Alec Lightwood at his door the next morning. 

“You forgot this yesterday,” Alec mumbles, and shoves Magnus his jacket. 

“Thanks,” Magnus says, looking up. He’s staring a little too intently at Alec, he knows, but the colour in Alec’s eyes is so rare and unusual, he has trouble looking away.

“It’s not a problem,” Alec says, as he stares back. Two seconds later, Alec’s ducks his head, and is already on his way. 

_That’s too bad,_ Magnus repeats in his head as he watches Alec go, and Magnus closes the door behind him.

\--

Magnus doesn’t give the idea a second thought until about a week later when he’s at the New York Institute, performing his quarterly check-ins of Institute wards. He’s whistling a jaunty tune, thinking about how he’s going to spend his hard-earned funds, when he suddenly hears Maryse Lightwood arguing hotly with Alec from the other side of the room – loudly enough to be heard over the muted conversation of shadowhunters who walk pass him, and the thrum of the terminals. 

“No,” Alec grinds out through his teeth. 

“What’s wrong with marrying Lydia, Alec? You get along so well. She’s perfect for you–”

“No,” Alec repeats, firm. 

And when Magnus turns around to look at them, Alec is staring directly at Magnus for some reason, and Magnus doesn’t know why.


	8. Everybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #8 (39) - Everybody**  
>  **Variation one:** Asmodeus runs his empire and steers his son’s life by relying on a very simple truth: everyone has a price. Especially the long line of his son’s past paramours.  
>  **Variation two:** telepath!Magnus. Magnus’ abilities flare up at breakfast. (aka PIC had too many feelings after a rewatch of XMFC and this is pure transference)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **bumblebeesknees** doesn't actually know how to develop AUs (which everyone already knew) and **partnerincrime** doesn't know how to manage her feelings about telepathy and the tragedy of XMFC. this is the result, and we hope you guys enjoy reading our first flash fic in - four months, oh gosh.
> 
> <3

  
  
**Prompt #8 – Everyone**  
  


**Variation one:** Asmodeus runs his empire and steers his son’s life by relying on a very simple truth: everyone has a price. Especially the long line of his son’s past paramours. 

_Note: This fic is two scenes from what should really be a much larger AU where Alec is a cop and Magnus is his boyfriend who has had a long run of bad luck with love because of his father, a movie-villain mob boss who keeps buying off his partners._

  


“Everyone always leaves.” 

Magnus tells this to Alec just weeks into their exhilarating, terrifying romance, chasing down the bitter words with a swallow of his favourite, golden whiskey. It sounds like a goodbye, even more than their argument this morning. Alec frowns, but lets Magnus finish saying his piece: it might only have been weeks, but Alec – Alec _knows_. Once you realize something like this, there’s no way to unknow it. 

Knowing it is what caused Alec to show up at Magnus’ loft tonight even after – even after everything that was said earlier today. It’s what caused Alec to confront him, caused him to ask in desperate frustration, “I don’t understand – what happened? What did I do?”

“Because everyone has a price,” explains Magnus. His black nails are clenched right around his glass. “And my father is very, very good at bargaining. Three broken engagements and one runaway bride speak for themselves, don’t you think?”

“Is this why you haven’t been letting me in? Because you think I can be bought off?” Anger is much easier to manage than hurt. _You’re such a good man,_ Magnus had murmured to him just days ago as they lay in bed together, absently running his fingers down Alec’s arm. Alec had felt his chest go tight with an unexpected shyness, felt himself iwant to turn away from the naked wonder in Magnus’ gaze. _I didn’t know people like you still existed._ “I’m a cop, Magnus, and if you think–”

“Camille was in the FBI before my father got to her,” interrupts Magnus. “I met her because she was tasked with bringing my father in. You think being in law enforcement makes you – what? Strong enough to resist the lure of millions and millions of dollars?”

“No, I think my _integrity_ will stop me from taking a goddamn bribe,” Alec bites out. _And the fact that I love you._ Taking a deep breath, Alec says, “Every person who your dad got to – God, I’m sorry, Magnus. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how anyone could ever–”

“I don’t need your pity,” snaps Magnus. “And I don’t need to hear about how you’re different, how you’re not like that. I’ve heard it all before, Alexander.”

“It’s not pity.” Alec’s throat is burning. What is he doing? _I am different,_ he wants to say, but it seems – it seems trite, pathetic. Something Magnus wouldn’t believe anyway. “You – you take up so much fucking room inside of me, Magnus. Being without it isn’t something that I would ever choose. That’s why I don’t understand it. But if you don’t let me in, you’re not – you’re not even giving me chance to prove myself. You’re doing your dad’s work for him.”

For the first time, Magnus seems to be struck by Alec’s words because he’s looking directly at Alec instead of the wall behind his head. His eyes are bright, and he’s blinking rapidly – one-two-three-four – and Alec thinks that maybe, maybe–

“It always ends the same way,” repeats Magnus. He turns back around, faces the city skyline. “The end result – the end result’s always the same. It was stupid of me to forget it. And I’m sorry that – that you got caught up in it because I didn’t have it in me to stay away from you.”

“Well, _I’m_ not sorry.”

How can Alec ever be sorry for this? If it hadn’t been for Magnus, Alec would still be blind to the existence of this whole other spectrum human experience – the joy and sweetness of falling in love, the terror of thinking he’s losing himself in Magnus and the relief of realizing no, he’s _finding_ himself instead. The awful inadequacy he had felt this morning. The tenderness he had felt in every other.

Alec strides over to Magnus, takes him by the shoulders and forces him to turn around. Immediately, Alec feels his heart ache at the sight of him: the pain that’s tightens the corners of his eyes and mouth. How lovely he looks despite it. 

“I’m not sorry,” he repeats. “Not yet. Not unless you tell me to go. And if you do–” Here, Alec has to put his head ahead of his heart. “If you do, then it won’t be me that’s leaving. It’ll be you pushing me away.”

Magnus stares at him. For an infinitely long minute, the only sound that Alec hears is the deafening beat of his own heart, the maddening _tick_ of the clock. The light catches on the cuff at the shell of Magnus’ ear, and Alec is reminded that this is what caught his attention that night at the precinct so long ago now, when Magnus had come to report the theft of the designs he’d drafted for his couture line: Alec had seen the refraction of light at the corner of his eye, prompting him to turn and try and find the source. 

And what Alec had found in Magnus had been so much more than a source of light. Alec had never fooled himself into thinking that Magnus found just as much in Alec, but – but he had hoped to have provided something. To have been enough to take a risk on.

“Magnus,” says Alec, when he can’t bear the silent, agonizing uncertainty any longer. “Tell me to stay.”

“I–” Magnus can’t finish his sentence. “Alexander, I–”

“Then tell me to go,” says Alec, ignoring the awful feeling clawing at him. He drops his hands from Magnus’ shoulders and Magnus makes a wounded noise. 

If Magnus doesn’t want to take this chance on Alec – then Alec needs to hear it. Needs there to be no uncertainty that this is _Magnus’_ choice that Alec will have to respect. Not Alec’s. Never Alec’s, not even if Magnus does his best to make Alec angry and to scare him off. Just as how taking a fucking bribe from Magnus’ mob boss of a father wouldn’t be Alec’s choice either. Alec’s whole life has been a long, painfully learned lessons on the consequences of choice and the responsibility to live with them. 

Alec has always has the strength to live with the repercussions of his own choices. But he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to live with Magnus’.

“I can’t.” The words sound like they’re ripped out of Magnus. Alec’s breath catches in his throat even as Magnus takes a great, heaving inhale of air, as though this is the first time he’s letting himself. “God help me – I can’t tell you to leave.”

Magnus drops his finished glass of whiskey on the floor and sweeps Alec close, both of his hands gripping Alec’s shirt at his back.

“Then I won’t,” says Alec, and the relief that overtakes him is so vast that it would have him buckling at his knees, if the need to hold Magnus up wasn’t stronger than that, still. “I won’t leave you.”

It’s a promise, an oath. There’s only one other time he had heard his own voice ring in his ears as clearly as it does now, the conviction he’d held when he had promised to uphold the law. Now, he thinks: _I, Alec Lightwood, solemnly swear that I will support and defend you, Magnus Bane; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to you; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge my duties to you, so help me God._

“This isn’t going to end the way it did with everyone else.” If Alec has his way, then this _isn’t_ going to end. “I know you think you don’t have a reason to think differently, but I promise–”

“Stop,” says Magnus, and his hold gets tighter. Alec closes his eyes, breathes in the smell of sandalwood. “I have every reason. _You_ are different, Alexander. And if you – if you want to try this with me despite everything that happened and everything that’s coming–”

Magnus cuts himself off and Alec response to him is a hungry, desperate kiss. It’s the only answer to that question.

-

 

Two months later, Magnus proposes. Alec, of course, says yes.

Two months and two days later, a black limousine with tinted windows pulls up beside Alec during his morning run. Alec slows his pace, pulling out his earphones when the backseat windows roll down. He didn’t think that this would happen so soon.

“Mr. Lightwood,” says Asmodeus, smiling charmingly. “I think it’s about time you and I get to know each other better.”

The drive to a seemingly benign coffee shop in Queens is quiet, but quick; New York traffic might be a thing of nightmares, but not on weekend mornings at 6am. Asmodeus takes a seat across from Alec, slides a plain black coffee over to him. 

“It’s not poisoned,” assures Asmodeus. “That’s not really my MO when it comes with dealing with my favourite son’s pesky lovers. Though,” he adds, sounding curious, “you’re a little bit more than that, aren’t you? I suppose I should extend my congratulations. Only four others have gotten here before you.”

“They say fifth times the charm,” says Alec dryly, trying to keep his anger in check. “Should we be expecting you at the ceremony?”

“No,” says Asmodeus pleasantly. “Because there will be no wedding.”

“Listen,” sighs Alec. “I’ll tell you what I told Magnus when he first told me that you’d try to pull something like this: it’s not going to work. You can’t buy me off. Magnus is worth more to me than money. And I’ll remind you that it’s a felony to try and bribe a police officer.”

“It would be tactically disadvantageous to try and arrest me at my own store,” says Asmodeus, unbothered. “Especially without your gun and badge on you.”

“There’s always next time,” says Alec. “Assuming you’re going to try again. My answer’s no.”

“Integrity is a much more annoying characteristic to exploit than greed,” says Asmodeus, looking long-suffering. “But I built my empire holding on to one fundamental fact about human nature: everyone has a price. Give them something they want badly enough, and they’ll accept that offer. I’m not a fool, Mr. Lightwood. I never expected _money_ would be the thing to sway you.”

Asmodeus pulls up the briefcase he’d placed at the side of the table. Alec had thought, perhaps stupidly, that it would be full of stacks of cash. Instead he pulls out an envelope and passes it to Alec. 

Inside are surveillance photos of Alec’s mother.

Alec feels his whole body still. 

Conversationally, Asmodeus says, “Like I said, officer. Everyone has a price. And it didn’t even take me five minutes of research to understand what yours would be. I have more, of course – of your beautiful sister, your little brother. Your best friend, in the force. There’s certainly no shortage of people in your life, is there? No shortage of people who you love to keep you company when you walk away from this relationship with my son. I hope it doesn’t need to be said that if we can’t come to an understanding at the end of our impromptu meeting, Mr. Lightwood, you will most definitely have a shortage of people in your life.” 

There is a pause, as Asmodeus looks at Alec as though he is expecting Alec to speak. He’s in a world of disappointment if he is. Alec can’t make a single sound right now.

“As I’m sure you are realizing right about now, you are not the first of my son’s dalliances who couldn’t be convinced with riches,” says Asmodeus. “There are those like Camille who don’t need any persuading at all, but there were others who, like you, considered themselves to be honourable men and women. It’s not their fault that doing the honourable thing meant breaking my son’s heart.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” 

It’s the first thing that Alec says after his long stretch of silence. Possibly a terrible thing to say to a man who wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a gun and shoot him point blank, but – Alec hadn’t realized the extent of everything he’d learned about the man from Magnus until now.

Asmodeus looks surprised at Alec’s outburst, but not perturbed. “Well,” he says. “You’re not wrong.”

The bell above the door chimes as it opens, and out of the corner of his eye Alec sees Lydia walk in.

“Why do you do this?” he asks, the photos crumpling in his grip. “Magnus is – he’s your son and he’s – he’s an incredible person. He’s clever and warm and has so much to offer to the world. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make him happy and I think I do a pretty good job most of the time. Don’t you want that for him? Are you doing this because you think I’m going to hurt him?”

“Well, the track record of his past lovers show that they _will_ hurt him,” says Asmodeus. “End of the day, they choose something – or someone – else over him each time, don’t they?”

Alec doesn’t believe this. 

“It doesn’t count if you’re _extorting_ them into–”

“But no, that’s not my reason for wanting people like you out of his life,” interrupts Asmodeus. “You see, Mr. Lightwood, I want him to be strong. I don’t want him to have weaknesses.” He taps meaningfully at the envelope containing the photos of Alec’s family. “He has such potential – but he’ll always be vulnerable so long as he lets you make him weak.”

“Jesus Christ,” mutters Alec, realizing that there isn’t anything he can say to Asmodeus that’ll sway him – no sweet memories of Magnus as a child, no basic compassion for humanity. Asmodeus won’t be able to give Alec any answer that’ll make sense to Alec, not when their starting point – the principles with which they think, make decisions, live their lives – are so fundamentally different.

This has gone on long enough. Lydia’s presence means that everyone is in place, and she and Alec would be two officers who bore witness to Asmodeus trying to extort him. They’re all now just waiting for Alec’s signal. 

Alec gives them the go when he says, “You’re really doing this, huh? Coercing me to leave Magnus by threatening the safety of my family.”

“The fact that you don’t think of him as your fa–”

But Asmodeus never finishes that sentence, because a split second later Jace is leads the charge with a team of twelve into the shop in his SWAT gear, shouting, “NYPD, don’t move!” and Alec’s kicking aside the coffee table between him and Asmodeus and tackles him to the ground. 

“Magnus _is_ my family, you asshole,” he hisses into Asmodeus’ ear in the ensuing chaos. “When he asked me to marry him, I told him that I’d have you behind bars as a wedding present. So thanks for sticking to your schedule in making this happen.” 

Asmodeus doesn’t resist the arrest. He probably thinks its beneath him. Thinks that he’s going to walk out of the police station, as though Alec hasn’t been building this case for months. As though Magnus hasn’t been building it for even longer. As though the FBI isn’t coming to pick him up within hours.

“You’re making a dangerous enemy, Lightwood,” he says softly.

Alec knows that what Asmodeus is saying is nothing short of the truth. Asmodeus has allies and operations all over and it’ll take time to dismantle his network. But it’s a calculated risk. Going into the force is the family business, and his mother and father and siblings – they understand this. And they’re going to help him keep this man down. 

Family means something to Lightwoods. And for better or for worse, Magnus is going to be one of them now.

“You’ve been my enemy for a long time already.” Alec catches the handcuffs Lydia throws his way and secures them around Asmodeus’ wrists before hauling him up. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney…”

  


* * *

  


**Variation two:** telepath!Magnus. Magnus’ abilities flare up at breakfast. (aka PIC had too many feelings after a rewatch of XMFC and this is pure transference)

  


“… If you could do this for me Magnus – you would be saving my life. Talia wouldn’t be able to trace me anymore, and I would finally be able to escape,” the young fey girl explains, as she looks up at Magnus from beneath her cloak. A potential new customer – she appears young, wide-eyed, and fearful – but Magnus knows better than that. 

_And I’ll get away with it,_ the fey’s thoughts ring through his mind. _That bitch will never even know that I stole from her and slept with her husband._

Magnus sighs. He already knows its going to be one of _those_ days. 

“I’ll… consider it,” Magnus says hesitantly, but he’s already shutting the door. “I’ll let you know – I unfortunately have quite the busy morning, sorry-” 

_Asshole!_ she screams and Magnus winces, covering his ears in futile attempt to block out the shriek. 

“Yeah, you too,” he mutters under his breath. 

He stalks his way back to the kitchen, fuming. 

If there is one secret that Magnus keeps close to his chest (and there aren’t many) it’s his ability to read minds. It’s something that he refuses to disclose even the closest of his friends, Cat and Ragnor included, and the reason is twofold: one, he wants to protect them from people who would want to abuse his powers, and two, he likes his relationships and doesn’t want them to change. He’s being benevolent really, preserving their dignities and saving them from future embarrassment by not telling them, especially when they find out he already knows Cat has the hugest crush on one of the doctors at her medical clinic, and Ragnor’s daily thoughts are dominated by the feeding schedules of his birds. 

It can be very loud in certain moments, knowing what everyone thinks and feels. At other times, it’s exactly what he wants – a white noise that’s more than capable enough to drown his own thoughts. It’s something that Magnus has come to accept, for the most part, as a gift; maybe a strange manifestation of his warlock mark, or a groovy mutation – a power ultimately that has done more good for him than it has done bad. 

Still, telling himself this isn’t enough to dissipate his annoyance over that harpy. He’s still frowning when he reaches the kitchen. 

“Who was that?” Alec says from the stove. There’s a hearty stack of pancakes, three already served onto Magnus’ plate – with a bottle of maple syrup and a mélange of berries set on the side. _Just how I like it,_ Magnus thinks and smiles broadly at Alec’s back. 

“No one to concern yourself with,” Magnus dismisses. It’s a wonder how Alec knows how to inadvertently make it all better. He comes around from behind him to place his cheek in the shallow dip of Alec’s shoulder. It fits perfectly there. 

“Thank you though,” Magnus says, and turns to pecks him on the cheek. 

Alec leans in close, as if chasing the sensation when Magnus moves away – and their heads knock gently together. Magnus can feel Alec’s soft hair brushing at his temples while the quiet sizzle of the pan hums in the background; he can’t help but lean in closer too, to take in the warm, clean morning musk radiating off Alec. 

“What for?” Alec murmurs – and Magnus can feel the noise rumble from within Alec’s chest as he speaks. 

“Everything, darling,” Magnus whispers back. He catches Alec’s eyes and smiles brightly. 

God, _you are so beautiful._

The force of Alec’s thought hits Magnus like a freight train. 

_Sososo beautiful, nothing can compare; how can I… how can I be sure you are real; let me hold you, and I would never let you go._ It spills out of Alec in an incomprehensible mess, and Magnus feels flashes of aching yearning and tenderness – a happiness, but not quite there – that shoots up his spine and lights up all his nerves, as if they all had been cut raw, exposed to something weighs heavy and intense. A sensation that nearly knocks him off his feet. 

Magnus stumbles back. 

If there is one person that Magnus makes a conscious effort to block out, it’s Alec. Magnus has learned early on that relationships and telepathy are like oil and water: something that can mix for a moment, before it all breaks apart. He’s tried before – relationships in which he’s miraculously known and done everything “right” – but they’ve ultimately ended up in fires and unfulfillment, never enough trust for it to have worked out in the end. 

Since his philandering years though, he’s made a promise with himself that he wouldn’t – hell, he couldn’t – do that again, especially to risk it on what he has with Alec. 

But he can’t help but get glimpses sometimes, when Alec’s feelings are intense enough to slip past his mental blocks and settle themselves into Magnus headspace. Happiness when he’s spending time with Izzy and Jace, or when he sees Madzie running straight towards him. Determination when he’s on a mission; anger when he’s learned a shadowhunter has been killed in battle, or when he meets an eight-year old fledgling vampire child for the first time. Sadness when he’s lonely and lost; contentment when they when they fall in bed together, huddled warm, skin against skin, beneath their sheets. It’s in the way that Alec thinks and feels, strangely tactile; he thinks in images and colour and feeling, words sparse in his landscape – that makes it hard to avoid for Magnus. 

“Are you okay?” Concern floats out of Alec as he rubs a soothing hand over Magnus’ back. 

“Yes, yes – just a mild… headache. You know I don’t like clients coming this early in the morning.”

“Alright,” Alec says carefully, “if you’re sure…” Slight disbelief – Magnus knows Alec wants to continue prodding, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

“I’m fine, my love. I just need my coffee and your delicious pancakes, and I’ll be right as rain.” 

The disbelief ebbs away slowly. “Let’s get some food in you, then,” Alec says – and he turns off the stove and leads Magnus to the table, the last plate of food in his hands. 

When they sit, Magnus eagerly splashes a liberal amount of maple syrup and berries over his pancakes. A distinct feeling of fondness comes from Alec as he does this – Magnus glances from beneath his lashes and he sees Alec grinning broadly. He’s pleased. 

Magnus is too when he takes his first bite into a fluffy pancake. 

_Delicious._

Both Alec and Magnus tuck into their breakfast, chattering between sips of coffee and bites of their food.

And then it hits Magnus again, when he’s about ten bites in and Alec is talking to him about the agenda for the next Cabinet meeting, and intermittently, Izzy’s new “beau”. 

_I can’t believe you are mine,_ the thought echoes loudly through Magnus’ head, and it’s accompanied by both emotions and images this time – The first time they met. Playing pool at the Hunter’s Moon. The wedding. Magnus and him in Tokyo at Ueno Park, hand in hand. Magnus rippling with magic, fighting demons. Reconciliation. Magnus and him sparring last month. Magnus running his fingers through his hair. Magnus gasping his name, his eyes glowing in the darkness. Magnus’ head on his shoulder this morning. 

Thousands of compressed moments into an intense second, played forever on replay and repeat in Alec’s mind. 

Magnus’ fork clatters against his china plate. 

Alec is still talking through bites of food, telling Magnus about how Izzy’s doctor friend thinks they make jewelry. He’s laughing. When on the inside, that this is what Alec’ thinks about – that he makes nothing of it, as it were normal. As it isn’t something new. 

Magnus can’t believe the sheer intensity of it all. That Alec is keeping all of this to himself, it’s… it’s too much. 

“Magnus?” Alec has stopped talking and reaches a hand across the table. “What’s wrong?”

The words are out of Magnus before he even realizes what he’s saying. “You know I love you, right?”

The impact of his words on Alec is enormous. Magnus can feel it even though he tries not to – but the feedback comes on strong through his powers, as if the emotion that Alec feels is much too large for one body to contain. It spills into Magnus’ mind, a wash of maroon that winks into pulsing white, that makes his heart beat faster and faster, constricting tightly, then a deep release – making his chest feel ten sizes too big. 

Brimming happiness and overwhelming relief. It’s as if Alec didn’t know. 

Magnus reaches across the table, and squeezes Alec’s hand tightly. “I love you,” he repeats softly.

Overwhelmed, verklempt; it’s as if Alec is struggling through a possession of the soul , as he tries to regain control over his hands, his mouth, his face again. 

_And I, you._

It booms in Magnus’s mind. 

After a moment, Alec finally squeezes Magnus’ hand tightly back. “I will always love you.” 

His reply is direct and unembellished, but it’s like Alec has said another thousand things at once. A short statement, yet a powerful one – and Magnus doesn’t need his powers to tell him that it’s the truth.


	9. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt #9. Warm;**  
>  **Variation one:** At the start of a quiet morning.  
>  **Variation two:** For the first time in 5 years, Jace visits Alec.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we definitely did a rush job with this prompt, but we had way too many feelings about this quote (even if it’s not necessarily our own versions of the perfect ending) and wanted to get this out the door before next week brought on whole slew of real life responsibilities. we hope you enjoy reading!! <3

  
  
**Prompt #9 – Warm (Writer’s Choice)**  
  
_"Alec is sitting at the harbor in South Carolina. He has a boat, it’s a small boat with a motor. He’s wearing linen, the sun is setting. He’s happy and you can tell he’s happy because he’s working. He’s setting the boat up and everything like that and he’s going out. You can tell he’s going out to go get some fish. Magnus, Jace and all his friends are there. They’re all alongside the beach and they’re all doing different things. Some of them are getting food ready but it’s clear from what we’re seeing that all the concerns of the Clave and all these things, they’re all gone. Now they can all pursue a human life, not a life devoted to some kind of service that they don’t really believe in or a purpose that’s just there because it’s serving somebody else’s purpose. So, a life that they choose. A life that Alec chooses. It’s warm."_  
  
\-- Matt Daddario, when asked what his perfect ending scene in the show would be for Alec.  


  
  


**Variation one:** At the start of a quiet morning.

  


It’s mid-morning, now. 

Alec has probably been awake for hours under the open sky, working away on the last of the extensions of the villa. With a hot mug of coffee in his hands, Magnus curls up on the swinging bench on the veranda. If he turned his head Magnus would be able to look out into the beach and the gentle crash of waves against the shore, but he opts to watch Alec systematically saw through wooden planks instead. The air is humid the way it always is by the water at the peak of summer, something lazy about the unforgiving heat. Even from the distance Magnus can see the sweat trickling down Alec’s temple, the way his loose cotton shirt sticks to his back.

Maybe Magnus should feel a little abashed at having his own day start so much later, but he _is_ still in the city most days. It’s one of the perks of having a portal at his fingertips: he gets to spend his working hours in New York and still come home to Alec every night. Magnus is self-aware enough to know that he doesn’t have what it takes to settle into a quiet life and thanks every higher power he believes in for making it so he doesn’t have to. Alec, though – Alec fits into this life as easily as coming home. It’s been a refuge for him after the last war, somewhere he could rest and heal until the world inevitably needs him to go back out and fight again. 

And that had been the catalyst for his ultimate motivation in making these renovations to the villa, extending its capacity to comfortably hold twelve instead of two. Not only to keep himself busy, but because Alec had gotten the stupidly noble idea in his head to not only start, but to _personally build_ some kind of home for the children left behind from the war. 

“I’ve been thinking about all the kids the Clave’s still trying to process,” Alec had murmured to him in their first few days here, a whispered secret at the precipice of the deepest part of night. “And, y’know, how we have all this space. How this is a good place to start over.”

Magnus didn’t need to hear much more to understand what Alec had been getting at. 

“Can’t even go a week into retirement without wanting to go right back to helping people, huh?” he’d teased, and Alec had huffed out in embarrassment. Then, more gently, “You are a man with a generous spirit, Alexander. It would be my honour to help you make this place into a sanctuary.”

“Are you sure? It’s your house, and – it’s just something I’ve been thinking about. Nothing concrete. It doesn’t have to be here.” 

Even after everything they’ve been through together, there had been something within Alec that made him think that accepting help from Magnus would be placing a burden on Magnus’ shoulders when in reality it would be giving Magnus an unparalleled privilege. As though it wasn’t the duty Magnus had to his own self and his own heart, to do what he could to make Alec’s infrequent dreams just that much easier to attain when it was within Magnus’ means and abilities to do so.

He had lifted Alec’s hand – the one that had been resting at Magnus’ hip – and kissed his knuckles. Magnus hadn’t left any room for argument when he said, “Of course it has to be here.” 

It’s only a few months after that now and they’re just days away from finishing the house. There’s only so many people they can help, no matter how much Alexander wants to help them all, but even so, it’s – it’s something. It’s something incredible. 

Alec spots him just a few seconds later. Even with a good few yards between them, Magnus can see that shift in Alec’s face. The way his expression goes from a stern focus to something kinder. He waves, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. 

Magnus is seized with something helpless at the sight of it. Something vast, ferocious in its ability to sweep him under the force of its tide, something that would have his legs give out from the force of it if he wasn’t already sitting on the swing. Alec’s wearing some terrible cargo shorts, for goodness’ sake – _khaki_ ones – but that just – that just adds to it. Adds to the relaxed slope of his shoulders, to the sunborn freckles that have made a permanent home at the bridge of his nose. To his bare calves and forearms. The way the inky black of his hair somehow, impossibly, becomes even darker. Becomes softer. Begging to have Magnus’ fingers run through them.

A spirit that glows as bright as Alec’s was never meant to be kept hidden in the shadows, shrouded in the dark. Magnus has always known this, and yet he can’t help but marvel at the truth of it each time he sees it head-on. The extent to which Alec comes alive in the light of the sun.

Eventually Magnus snaps out of it and waves back, and Alec takes that as a sign to power down his tools. He removes his goggles and start his trek over to Magnus from where he’s been working on the lawn – a few feet from where their yard transitioned into the sand. It never ceases to surprise Magnus. How just the sight of Alec is enough to feed and fulfil him, chase away even the memory of that awful yearning that’s clawed at him for centuries. 

“You’re up,” calls out Alec when he gets close enough to hear, climbing the stairs to the veranda. 

“I am,” agrees Magnus, keeping his eyes on Alec. “No thanks to you.”

“You’re really going to pretend to be mad at me because I let you sleep in?”

“Who’s pretending?” asks Magnus, even as he tilts up his jaw for Alec to take in his large, sun-roughened hands. It’s instinct to close his eyes as Alec leans down for a kiss, to tighten his grip around the mug in his hands. “I could’ve been getting this from you hours ago.”

The press of Alec’s lips is soft. Alec’s laugh that gets lost between their mouths – it’s warm.

  


* * *

  


**Variation two:** For the first time in 5 years, Jace visits Alec.

  


Jace receives a fire message on Friday afternoon, just as he’s about to pack up and head home. When he opens it, he finds only a short note in familiar script – Alec’s – asking him if he’s available next Wednesday to join him on an impromptu fishing trip. 

It’s a peculiar request from Alec given Alec rarely asks. Ever since the “Incident” five years ago, forever dubbed the “Incident” – the Lightwoods never like to talk about it – it almost seemed as if Alec had changed, withdrew into himself. He became ever more quiet, ever more careful; hesitant to speak what he thought, as if everyone else’s opinions were a little bit more important than his. In the days following, he retired from the Institute at the tender age of 43 and moved away from New York – in an effort to forget, to heal, and _forgive_. 

And it came as a shock. A shock to everyone because everyone knew that the Institute and shadowhunting played such a huge part in Alec’s life, none who knew that more than Jace. But Jace knew that this was the right thing to do, to let Alec go. To release Alec from the heavy mantle of responsibility, to let him do what he always to do without restraint; to have choice. And while it took several years for Jace to realize these lessons – being pushed into the role of Head of the New York Institute does that to a person – he always worries that Alec is out there, living somewhere not exactly happy because he thinks he no longer has purpose, even if he’s cusping his fifties. 

Jace sometimes thinks maybe he should’ve pushed harder for Alec to stay. He harbours some guilt over this – maybe that’s why he hasn’t visited Alec in four or so years, nor does he ask.

But when Alec asks for Jace on Wednesday, he will get Jace on Wednesday. When it comes to Alec – Jace will drop everything in a heartbeat. 

\--

Jace arranges to get to Alec’s oceanfront cabin via portal the Wednesday morning. It’s Magnus who takes him. 

“Hey, long time no see.” 

“You as well – you’ve settled quite well into your new job it seems. It suits you,” Magnus says as they shake hands. 

Jace snorts. “ _New_? It’s been like five years, Magnus. No need to pretend.” Magnus has barely changed since Jace has last saw him – still young, vibrant, and extravagant as ever. He wears a heavily-patterned shirt with several of the top buttons undone, and a cluster of gold pendants hanging around his neck. 

Jace suddenly feels very old standing next to Magnus – despite Jace being centuries younger. He tries to release the tension in his forehead, in an instant very conscious of the prominent wrinkles that exist there. 

Magnus makes a face. “Oh right, sorry. Warlock years. It has been some time hasn’t it?” He gives a cursory glance at Jace before he turns around and starts working on opening the portal. 

“Yeah… it has. How are things with you? Still doing mostly consulting work?” He and Magnus are not close enough to talk about why exactly it’s been a long time – so instead, Jace glances around Magnus’ loft to find something else to keep the conversation going. However, the loft is in complete disarray – Jace spots several pizza boxes and a game console stashed away in the coat closet, too full to close – and he’s admittedly a little bit concerned when he sees one of Magnus’ precious ceramics teetering precariously on its dais, under a mountain of books.

“Some here, some there – I’m actually in Brooklyn on most weekdays, it was just too hard to give up my client base. It pays too well,” Magnus says, laughing. At Jace’s silence, he looks back to catch Jace visually sweeping the place. “Oh, don’t mind the mess – that’s all Max. He seems to think that the loft is his now, and I’m terrified what to find when I walk through the front door every morning.”

Jace gives a noise in agreement, and they chat about the kids for a moment – but after that, the conversation lulls into silence.

After what feels like a minute, Magnus nonchalantly throws out, “Alexander’s missed you dearly.” Jace almost misses the comment – the sizzle of the spell making it hard to hear – but despite looking so focused on the portal, Jace knows Magnus is intently listening for his answer. 

“Well... yeah... Y’know, there was a lot to learn in the first couple of years. The Institute always finds a way to keep you busy.” Jace frowns – even to him, it sounds like he’s just giving excuses. “But still, we communicate a lot by fire message. I tell him how things are, how well Soph and Raf are doing…” Jace doesn’t tell Magnus how heavily he edits those messages, minimizing mention of the Clave and the Institute as much as he can. 

“…Everything’s alright with Alec, right?” Jace finally asks. It’s really the only thing he’s been wanting to know all along.

The portal finally snaps open and Jace can catch a glimpse of beautiful blue sky and crystal-clear ocean on the other side. Magnus steps aside and gestures to Jace to enter. “Why don’t you just see for yourself?” 

\--

Alec is already on the other side of the portal, ready to greet them. 

“Jace!” Jace immediately feels himself being lifted off the ground, wrestled into a hug. 

Jace can’t help it – he feels his face morph into what feels like a giant stupid grin. He loops an arm around Alec, and reciprocates his actions, giving him a tight squeeze back. “Hey you.” 

Alec straightens – there’s also a huge grin on his face as well. “Wow, you look so old,” he says – as he leans in close. He seems to be inspecting the wrinkles developing in Jace’s forehead, and around his mouth. “What’re they making you do in New York?”

Jace punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Hey, watch it. You’re still older than me,” he replies teasingly back. Jace knows however, that there’s truth to Alec’s words – the position of the Head of the New York Institute was a surefire way to kickstart the aging process, in which Jace had begun noticing more and more greys each passing day. A hazard of the job that no one ever told him about – but nonetheless, one of the smaller ones at best.

Alec on the other hand, looks great – even with his injury. He’s several shades darker than the last time that Jace has seen him, skin deeply tanned, dappled almost like leather. Despite this, the scar that dug deep into his left eye remains pale, a rough jagged line of a wound, its path interrupted by Alec’s cloudy left pupil. He has several freckles now, that cascade down his cheeks, his neck, and onto his arms. He wears a white linen shirt and thong sandals – and seems to fit right into the landscape of the coast. Jace tells him that. 

“Yeah, Magnus tells me that all the time.” He turns to give Magnus a quick peck on the lips – Jace, so lost in their reunion, almost forgot that Magnus was even there. “Tells me that my second love, after him and Max and Raf, is the sea.”

Jace eyes the ocean warily. Shadowhunters have never fared well with large bodies of water – but he’ll do anything for Alec. Even if it means hopping into Alec’s dingy of a boat to go catch fishes with tiny wire nets and fiddly little sticks. 

Alec must see him making a face – because he chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’ll be with me. I’ll take you out on the _Diana_. We’re actually having a barbeque today, with the kids and our neighbours, Aki and Lulu,” Alec’s eyes suddenly flit to Magnus for a brief moment, almost for reassurance – then back to Jace. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. And the night. If you’d like.” 

Jace is about to respond – but Alec, he keeps going. “I asked Iz if she was free, but she said she, Clary, and Sophie had a conference to go to in London or something. I figured you’d want some company,” Alec says, almost tentatively. That waver of hesitation in his voice – trying to pass off the ask as if it were something they do every week, as opposed to once every five years. 

Alec’s trying so hard. When Jace – all he did was – 

“Yes, yes – of course. I owe you one, brother,” Jace says as he puts an arm around Alec’s shoulder. It feels almost too easy, as if slipping into a familiar t-shirt, or a worn pair of shoes. “It was take-out Chinese food on the menu for me tonight, you’re honestly saving me from myself.”

The hesitation disappears and a warm laugh bubbles from Alec’s throat. 

“I’ve missed you a lot.” Alec is smiling so wide, it reaches his eyes – Jace can see the crow’s feet bunch around his eyes, around the scar; the laugh lines tug at his mouth – following familiar paths.

“I’ve missed you too,” Jace says back, as they walk over to the _Diana_. 

It feels good to say it. 

\--

Alec, it turns out, is extremely good at fishing. 

“You luckily don’t exactly need both your eyes to fish,” he says, as he reels in another mackerel, almost a foot long this time. “The ocean is like your blindfold.” 

Jace impatiently wills his float to bob again, or something to pull on the line – but no such luck. “I’m not exactly sure if this hobby is right for me.” 

“What are you talking about? That monkfish you caught was a monster – that's amazing! We’ll be eating well tonight.” 

Jace peers at his single catch again – one giant monkfish, close to 3 feet long. It’s quite frankly horrific looking – he nearly fell over the side of the _Diana_ when he reeled it in. He had thought it was a demon carcass.

“I don’t know… it seems like an awful amount of work just to eat.” It had taken them close to an hour to reach Alec’s “secret fishing spot”. They were in the middle of the ocean for god’s sakes – how does an ocean even have a “spot”?

“It is,” Alec admits, as he casts his line again. “It’s not a life for everyone. But when I’m here,” he gestures around himself and sinks deep into his seat, “I feel at peace, y’know? I feel free. This is paradise to me.” 

It takes Jace close to five hours for him to understand what Alec is talking about, how floating upon the tiniest little boat with only several inches of plastic separating him from a cold and suffocating death could ever be construed as peaceful. Upon boarding, Jace was initially hit with a cloud of anxiety, realizing that this fishing trip meant that he would be trapped out in the middle of the ocean with Alec, someone who he owed a thousand answers to, a relationship that could be ruined with one single incorrect response. But Alec doesn’t do any of that – he doesn’t ask Jace anything. 

It’s just quiet. They sit in their chairs, turn their attention to the ocean vast. Somewhere along the four-hour mark, Jace realizes he’s fallen asleep – lulled into a nap by the gentle rocking of the boat, the soft lapping of the waves. The sun warms his skin. Alec beside him is humming something wordlessly, familiar, underneath his breath. 

“This _is_ nice,” Jace says. “I can see why you like it out here.”

Alec hums in agreement.  
\--

Lulu and Aki turn out to be a sweet old couple who live a couple miles from the Lightwood-Bane’s cabin. They usually come by every Wednesday to trade fresh fruits and vegetables from their farm for Alec’s catches – and they always stay for dinner, which Magnus sets up in their huge backyard. 

Max and Rafael, along with Jace, are actually the ones who are the guests here today. Max is a lot bigger than he last saw him – Raf on the other hand, Jace sees on a daily basis, and he gives him a solid clap over his shoulder in greeting. “Glad you could make it,” Raf says as he grins. He takes the seat next to Max, and gestures for Jace to sit next to him. Alec is at the head of the table, sitting next to Magnus. 

It’s a wonderful dinner, perfect to enjoy as the hot sun sinks low into the summer sky. The vegetables are fresh and crisp, the wine – sweet; a perfect compliment to the smell of the salt spray of the ocean that seems to linger on Jace's skin. And the grilled fish is delicious – after receiving several compliments over the monkfish, Alec spares no expense to Jace’s dignity by fully retelling his reaction when he caught it. 

“And then he nearly threw himself off the boat, trying to get away- ”

Jace is about to protest – but then he catches a glimpse of Alec again under the Edison lights of his backyard, and that stops him. There’s a glow of happiness to his face as Magnus places a kiss in his hair, and his sons next to him – both of them gesticulating wildly as they retell their own story involving Max conjuring up a giant tuna. Everyone bursts into peals of laughter. And Alec – Alec laughing, face alight, surrounded by the people he loves. 

And this is how Jace will always remember Alec – happy, serene, and aglow. That guilt that Jace carries slowly fades – turned into laughter, warmth, as he joins the conversation once more.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, as always, for reading and leaving us such encouraging comments!!! if there are any "one word" prompts you guys would like to see us fill, please let us know and we will try our best to fulfill them. :D


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